What Dreams May Come
by Elite SquadB
Summary: Set post stars, our favorite couple, Usagi and Mamoru, are settling into a normal like after Galaxia's defeat. Suddenly, they are taken, along with the rest of the Senshi, by an unknown enemy that entrenches them in one strange nightmare after the next. Rated M for language and lemons.
1. Chapter 1: Wait

**Hello, lovely fanfiction readers!** This is a collaboration between four writers, **Ninjette Twitch, Revy679, Beej88,** and **Aya Faulkner.** Each chapter is different, and written by a different author. Some of the chapters are quite long, so they will be split up into two parts. This idea comes from the lovely mind of _Aya faulkner,_ and so the first chapter is hers.

Please, read and Review :)

 **Synopsis:** Set post stars, our favorite couple, Usagi and Mamoru, are settling into a normal like after Galaxia's defeat. Suddenly, they are taken, along with the rest of the Senshi, by an unknown enemy that entrenches them in one strange nightmare after the next. Rated M for language and lemons.

 **Wait**

By Aya Faulkner

" _You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams."_

― Dr. Seuss

oOo

He rolled over onto his back, breathless and damn near thoughtless. She curled up into him, her naked body flush against his. She giggled as she watched him. He in no way minded. He loved the sound of her giggle, but he also knew she was about to give him a hard time. And not one as pleasurable as the one she just gave him.

"Hmmm...did you have fun?"

She knew he struggled to form thoughts and words right after. "Mmmm…"

Giggling again, she snuggled into his neck. "Is that a yes?"

He let out a long sigh and squeezed her tighter to him. "You can't just let me enjoy it can you?"

This time, she laughed, loud and strong, causing the bed to shake just a little bit. She sat up, looking at him with a broad and knowing grin on her face. "I thought you already enjoyed it!"

"Yes well sooome of us like to enjoy it long after. Reflecting on the time spent."

She flopped back down, a frustrated sigh following her as she burrowed back into his shoulder. "You would say something like that, Mamo-chan."

He gently dug his hands under her, gaining traction and flipped her over onto her back. He leaned over her and gazed down into her eyes that shone like pools of melted sapphire. "Usako, you make me very happy."

Her smile, bright and dazzling, practically reached her ears. "You make me happy too, Mamo-chan."

"Good. So...what do you think...about making this permanent?"

Her brow furrowed and she pursed her lips. He had her thoroughly confused. "I'm not going anywhere, Mamo-chan. Are you?"

He knew the question was valid. After all, he'd left her once already. But that didn't mean the question didn't still hurt. "I am never leaving you again, Usako. Going to America was the biggest mistake of my life…."

"Well, yeah, since you died!"

He frowned at her, not appreciating the interruption. "I meant because I left you behind. Not because Galaxia killed me."

She stilled, looking away from him while her mouth made a small 'Oh.'

"Usako...look at me," he waited for her eyes to meet his once more before continuing, "I mean...I want….I want us to be forever. And I want it now, not later. What I'm saying is….I love you, more than anything and I want you to marry me."

She laid utterly still and silent beneath him, and her smile faded into a frown. "Listen, Mamo-chan, if this is because we slept together…"

"It has nothing to do with that! It has everything to do with me wanting you as my wife. I mean, making you an honest woman is a plus, but not the main reason. Not even close. I love you."

Her mouth jerked upwards, a smile returning to her rosy-hued lips, a bright sunny day after a storm. "Then yes. I will marry you."

He rolled over, leaned over his bedside table, and hurriedly opened the drawer. He almost spilled all of the contents over in his haste. Usagi just giggled underneath him, which caused him to chuckle in return. When he righted himself back over her, he held a small and shiny ring in between his fingers.

"This is not a promise ring, this is an engagement ring."

His hand that held the ring shook with every word, enunciating his point and driving it home. Usagi already had her hand out, ready to receive it. Slipping it on gained him another bout of beautiful giggles and once it reached its home, she grabbed and pulled him the rest of the way down on top of her. She crushed her mouth onto his, and he laughed into her mouth. She laughed back, the both of them becoming silly in the reverie of their happiness.

Then their laughter faded and their kissing became more than just playful teasing. Soon, the two of them were lost in another lovemaking session, the rest of the world around them melting away to nothing.

oOo

The sun woke him the next day, streaming through the blinds that he could have sworn he'd shut the night before. Hope no one was looking! He blushed at the thought and quickly rose to close them once more. The room instantly fell into a dim glow. The lump that still occupied his bed had yet to move, the covers hiding her from head to toe. The light must have bothered her more because she'd pulled the blanket all the way over her head.

He chuckled as he made his way to the bathroom, as the scenes from the night before played over and over in his head like a beautiful symphony. He'd never been this happy. Ever since he'd met her, his life had been a vast improvement, that much was true, but nothing like last night. He hadn't known what to expect, coming home after being away for so long. And although it was true, it hadn't really been his fault, he'd still been that had decided to go. All the fear and anger melted away as soon as he saw her though, her smile shone through all of his darkness in an instant and made him whole again. She would always do that for him, pull him together and out of the darkness.

With his bladder empty and his teeth no longer fuzzy, he took up the task of waking his beloved. She had yet to move or make a sound, which set off another face-cracking smile on his mouth.

"Usa...time to get up."

They both had already slept in. Him much later than he was used to, but they'd stayed up pretty late the night before. She rolled over, taking a large portion of the covers with her and he laughed.

"Come on, baby, don't you want to spend the day together?" A groan came from her, but her voice sounded deeper and strange. "Hey, are you okay? Are you getting sick?"

The lump wiggled, a laugh that was not Usagi's coming from within, and he jumped back from the bed. "No, I'm fine. Why would you think that?"

The cover was pulled down, and dark red hair spilled out, revealing a face he had not seen in years, but would never forget. "Beryl!"

She looked confused, her face scrunching up in a frown. "Yes?... What's wrong, love?"

He took another step back, tripping over something and fell to the floor. He realized he was still nude and covered himself with his hands. He practically growled at the woman who was also clearly naked in his bed. "What the FUCK are you doing here! Where's Usagi!"

The look on her face was a mixture of hurt and confusion. "Who the hell is Usagi?"

"Usagi! Usagi, my fiance!"

Her face reddened and tears began to well in her eyes. "But...I'm your fiance...Mamo-chan, what are you talking about?"

He stumbled to his feet, his heart and mind racing. Making it to his dresser, he grabbed up some clothes and started to roughly pull them on. "I don't know what the hell is going on or why you're here, but you need to leave. Now. I don't want to see you ever again, or I will end you. Do you understand?"

Beryl was sobbing, her face red and her body shaking with a mixture of sadness and anger. "But...Mamo-chan!"

He aimed a finger at her, threatening her. "Don't you ever call me that again. Only Usako can call me that. Now get the fuck out!"

This woman, this monster, had done unspeakable horrors to him and here she was IN HIS BED, like it was just another day. It hit him then, like a punch in the gut, turning to face her no matter how much his brain protested seeing the scene again.

"What did you do?" Her face twitched, uncertainty and fear flashing across it. "What did you do to her?!"

"Wha...what? Who? What are you talking about?!"

"You know exactly what I am talking about Beryl. Usagi! What did you do to Usagi!"

She huffed, moving to get off the bed and all he wanted to do was turn and run. "You know very well what happened to that girl and you have no one to blame but yourself."

Of course, she wouldn't tell him. It was part of her game. He would have to figure it all out by himself. But first, he needed to get rid of her and get out of this room!

Before fleeing, he watched as she rose and walked over to a dresser that he was only noticing for the first time. She pulled open a drawer, and he could see, from where he stood, that it was full of clothes. Women's clothes.

He dashed over to his closet and found that half was his and half was a woman's. By the color and size of them, he was pretty sure none of them belonged to Usagi.

"You live here?"

He breathed it out, the last of his air leaving him at the thought of it. "Yes, of course, I do. I have been for the past three years!"

The feeling of his heart stopping was both painful and numbing at the same time. But he knew deep down in his soul that he would never share space with anyone but Usagi. Something was wrong, very wrong.

He turned to her, thankful to find her now fully clothed. Her sobs appeared to have stopped, and now she looked at him with just anger. "And now you are going on about that Usagi girl again. I can't believe I trusted you when you said that was just a fling. But clearly, you are still in love with her, pretending to have amnesia. That is low even for you. So, what are you going to do, huh? Run to her and tell her that you love her? Well, good luck, I'll be around when you come to your senses!"

Stomping away, she yelled something about being back later. But he wasn't really listening. All he could think about was what the hell had happened to Usagi?!

oOo

Something wasn't right. Everything looked the same, the sky, the street, even the cars that drove by as he jogged to the arcade. It was the only place he could think to look for her. The only thing that seemed to be different was his apartment, a few things that must have belonged to Beryl being mixed in with his as they did not belong to him. Everything else seemed normal. Save for his blonde that he was still missing.

The arcade was near, and he began to run, rounding the corner and dashing through the door. His search lasted only a few seconds, finding a head of blonde hair standing just behind a row of games. Her buns were missing, but the color was very distinct.

Coming around the corner, his heart almost stopped at the sight of her. Somehow, she'd aged overnight, looking more like a 20-year-old instead of the bouncy 17-year-old he'd had in his bed last night. But that didn't bother him so much. He'd seen his future wife and Queen a few years ago, he knew what she would look like at full maturity, gorgeous. No, what had his heart in need of electric shock was her hair. Not only were her odangos, that he loved so much, gone, but her hair was also gone too. It was all cut off and stopped just under her chin.

Her eyes flashed over to him, deep cerulean pools that told him he was indeed right, the woman standing before him was his Usako.

But instead of flinging herself into his arms as he'd expected, she only glanced at him before turning her attention back to the table of teens before her. That was when he realized that she worked here.

That wasn't right. Usagi had never had a job in her life. And to have her around food and games seemed like a significant oversight on someone's part. This was all so….wrong.

She slowly walked over to him, her smile fading to a frown as she neared him. "What do you want, Mamoru-baka! I thought you said this place was 'beneath' you. That you wouldn't dare to step in here again for fear that your IQ would drop to my level."

Her voice held so much malice, he found it hard to breathe. And her eyes, they were so dark. She didn't have an ounce of care in them for him. She hated him. And it wasn't like the time before when they fought to cover their feelings for one another. No, this was real hatred. An emotion he was sure his Usagi was incapable of. This...this was not his Usagi.

He reached out, touching her arm slightly, "Usako…"

She hissed loudly, pulling her arm away as if he burned her. "You don't get to call me that. Not now, not ever!"

Hurt covered her face, her body becoming rigid as she closed every possible bit of herself from him.

"Usagi, snap out of it. This is all wrong, this..this isn't real!"

"What the hell are you on baka?!"

She shoved past him, the bell of the arcade ringing behind him, but he didn't care. He had to get through to her, to get them out of this hell they were in. Any place that Usako wasn't his wasn't in his arms so he could fuse them together, body, mind and soul, was hell.

He reached for her, grabbing an arm and stopping her escape. "Usagi, you have to...wake up! This is all some kind of….nightmare. I love you. I always have, since we were kids and long before that. Please, Usako, you have to wake up."

Almost on his knees, he was begging, pleading with her. The icy coil of dread twisting and furrowing in his chest becoming painful the longer she looked at him with a face full of blank disdain. She pulled from his touch as it burned and hissed at him.

"Get away from me you psycho!"

Now he was on his knees, unable to bear the pain that coursed through him at her continued dismissal. The ice in his heart was spreading, filling his lungs and making it hard to speak, but he forced out his words anyway.

"Don't you remember? Remember the night I told you I loved you? Remember the time you fell just outside of here, and I carried you back inside? Washed your knee and kissed you? Or the time your mom locked you out because of a low test score? You came to my place, and we talked all night? Your mom was so pissed, I thought for sure she was going to ship you off to a boarding school. Remember when I left for America? I told you we were always and I meant it Usako. I meant it every time I told you I loved you and I have never regretted any decision I made about you except leaving you here alone instead of staying by your side. We belong to each other Usako, please. Please just...wake up!"

His head was spinning, lack of oxygen most likely as he spent every last breath he had in his body begging her to look at him the way she used to. For the sparkle of love her big bright eyes always use to hold for him when her eyes met his. Instead of the dull ones that stared back at him now.

He had never felt so cold, not even when in Beryl's castle, his blood draining from him. He wasn't getting through, she didn't remember him, just like he had forgotten her under Beryl's spell.

But then she fell to her knees before him, her head in her hands. Screaming.

"Oh GOD, it burns!"

"Usako!"

He grabbed her again, and this time she didn't fight. He didn't know if it was the icy death that was covering him or if she was really as hot as she felt, but she was on fire to his touch. Other voices screamed around him, accusing him of things, but he didn't care. His blonde was writhing in pain in his arms, and he didn't know how to make it stop.

There was pulling at the back of his mind, the ice that covered him was starting to make him shiver while Usako felt as if she was about to burst into flames. He struggled to hold onto her, her and his consciousness, the black edges around his eyes telling him it wouldn't be long now.

Clasping his hands together tight, he locked her in his embrace, holding her close to his chest. But even with that, he could feel her slipping. She wrapped her arms around him in return, whispering in his ear and she had never sounded so scared in her life.

"Mamoru...don't let go...please…."

She was pulled away, the feeling similar to losing a limb. He was bleeding inwardly, his heart was ripped out with her. He couldn't hold on. She had begged him, and he wanted to never let go. But he still failed, the loss of her body in his arms like a death. He was ice.

oOo

The sun woke him, streaming through the blinds a lump still next to him on the bed had yet to move, the covers hiding her head to toe. His heart racing, his fingertips danced on the sheet, daring himself to pull it back. He prayed it was all a dream, a vicious and horrific dream and that when he pulled back the covers, he would be greeted while blonde hair. The sob he held back choked him when all he saw was red hair. Then he saw nothing but red all over. His rage was beating in his heart now, raging like a beast and it took all he had not to tear the woman beside him to shreds. But he needed her alive if he was to get any answers.

He lept from the bed and pulled clothes on as he had done before, turning to face the bed again. "Get up."

She groaned, and he fought back the bile in his throat.

"I said, get up."

She looked confused, her face scrunching up in a frown. "What's wrong, love?"

"You erased her mind, didn't you? Just like you did to me! Whatever you did Beryl, I will fix it. You can't keep us apart, no matter what you do! Usagi and I WILL be together forever!"

Hurt mixed in with her confusion. "Who the hell is Usagi?"

"You know who she is you bitch!"

A few tears began to fall down her face. "What….what is wrong with you?"

"You are what's wrong. Now get up!" He didn't care about being gentle, pulling her roughly from the bed, but then tossed her away when he remembered she was naked. "Put some God damn clothes on!"

She shook as she got up from the bed and he turned away. Not wanting to ever see another woman naked. The only body he ever wanted in his mind was Usagi's. Then she fell to the floor, her sobs knocking her legs out from under her.

There wasn't an ounce of pity in him towards this woman. She had taken EVERYTHING from him and even tried to do it twice. Guess they didn't do a good enough job killing her again.

"Tell me what you did! What the fuck did you do Beryl and how do I fix it?!"

She was barely breathing, her sobs making her wheeze as she tried to speak. "I don't...know...I don't….understand…"

God this was pointless. She was going to just give him the run around again and again. "So, I can't be with or talk to Usako, not without playing along to your sick game, am I right?"

She struggled, gulping down snot and tears as she looked up at him with dead eyes. But she made no indication of answering or even understanding him in the slightest. He had never wanted to throw a person from his window before, but it was a brand new world apparently.

"God, why can't you people leave us alone huh? You lost Beryl! Give it up! I don't love you and I never will. I want Usagi!"

Beryl was sobbing by this time, her face red and her body shaking in a mix of sadness and anger. "But...Mamo-chan!"

He aimed a finger at her, threatening her. "Don't you ever call me that again. Only Usako can call me that."

She wasn't going to give him anything, and he didn't want to kill her before he had Usako back in his arms just to be safe. He didn't know what would happen if he killed her and Usagi remained under the spell forever. "I want you gone by the time I get back. Understand Beryl? It's over!"

She huffed, pulling herself off the floor and pulling out her clothes. "You have no one to blame but yourself. All you do is hurt people Mamoru; me, that girl, you just refuse to let people be happy."

She was right about one thing, Usagi hated him in this world. So much so she hurt herself not to remember, the pain she felt as she tried to keep the memories away was terrifying. It was precisely how he had been when he was under Beryl's control. Even with it, he found himself drawn to her and also helping her a few times in his haze. So even with Beryl's hold, he could still break through, he had to. There had to be some way to get Usagi's mind back and to end this madness.

oOo

Clearly, just telling Usagi the truth wasn't going to work. He had a feeling that if he tried again, he would just wake up next to Beryl again after he and Usagi went through blinding pain. He couldn't do that to her, not again. And he would get nowhere if his day kept starting over again like a fucked up Groundhog Day.

The arcade was near, and he began to run, rounding the corner and dashing through the door. Finding her faster this time, he wasted no time walking up to her, the same cruel look flashing his way from her. But she forced it away with a smile so fake, it was plastic.

She slowly walked over to him, her smile fading to a frown as she neared him. "What do you want, Mamoru-baka! I thought you said this place was 'beneath' you. That you wouldn't dare to step in here again for fear your IQ would drop to my level."

Just like the first time, he struggled to breathe, the amount of pure hatred in her voice towards him had him feeling like he was drowning. He had to push through, get past it all for they would be in this purgatory forever. No way he could let Usako stay in this place, not like this.

He couldn't stop his need to touch her, reaching out for her even though he knew what would happen when he did. "Usako…"

She hissed loudly, pulling her arm away from him as fast as she could. "You don't get to call me that. Not now, not ever!"

Hurt covered her face, her body becoming rigid and the rims of her eyes red as she tried like hell not to cry in front of him. Or over him, either one seemed possible in this moment.

The bell on the arcade door rang out again, and Usagi brightened head to toe once she looked over, leaving him frozen in his confusion and hurt.

"Girls! I'm so glad you are here!" Her friends surrounded her, and he stood back, just a witness an event like he had been for so long before he met Usagi. "Hey, where is Rei?"

"Not sure. It's weird, right? Her being late?"

They all looked at Mina as she spoke, silently agreeing with their leader. Then they resumed their happy conversations, giving hugs and touches of endearment. At least the girls were the same. But then they caught sight of him, and their faces turned to stone.

"What the hell is he doing here?"

Lita looked like she was ready to jump him and no one was going to stop her.

"Just what the fuck do you think you are doing? Coming around here like this, now?"

His mouth dropped at the words coming from Ami, quiet little Ami. Mina rounded them together, looking like a cat fight was about to break out. "You shouldn't be here. You don't belong here. Not anymore."

Before anything else happened, the doors opened to Rei, who raced in, her face flushed from running. She looked around confused and desperate. Then her eyes landed on Usagi, and she raced over to her, enveloping her in a deep hug.

"Oh my gosh, Usagi-chan. I was so worried about you!"

Usagi hugged her in return but released a chuckle. "Worried? What were you worried about?"

Rei pulled back, looking at her - her eyes going wide for a moment at Usagi's hair - and around at the others as she spoke. "I was meditating, and the fire told me something….worrisome."

Lita huffed. "The fire? What the hell are you talking about Rei?"

Rei's eye looked around, confused and frantic until they landed on him. They went wide as if she somehow knew things were not right just by looking at him. But she remained silent, pulling away from the girls a bit and putting on a calm demeanor.

"Sorry, I watched a weird movie last night. Gave me the strangest dreams."

She glanced over at him again, and the girls caught it this time, their confusion turning back to anger once more. Makoto grabbed Usagi's shoulder, pushing her towards the door. "You're done for the day, right Usa? Let's get out of here before I do something that gets me arrested."

They all glared at him, save for Usagi who looked straight ahead and Rei who looked sympathetic and confused. Slipping out the door, he made to follow them, when Rei doubled back and caught him before he could leave.

"What the hell is going on! The last thing I remember is Usa calling me, gushing over your engagement, and then I wake up with everything all to hell!"

He shook his head. "I don't know! I went to bed with Usako and woke up with Beryl!"

"BERYL!"

He hushed her, a few heads turning their way. "She said we had been together for YEARS!"

"And you believed her?"

"She lived there. In my apartment with me!"

"Is she behind this? Did she somehow do this?"

He shook his head again. "I'm not sure...at first I thought so but….how could she? She is dead, and this would take too much power. Not only messing with Usako's mind but everyone else's?! Metallia is dead too, where did she get the power?!"

"Then how the FUCK did she end up in your bed?!"

He hushed her again, pulling her toward the back of the arcade. "Look I don't know but she could just a pawn in this. We need to keep our minds open to other possibilities."

She frowned. "And what about you and Usagi? They all seem to hate you."

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Yeah, I noticed but I have no idea why."

She nodded, looking back towards the door and making her way to it. "I'll do some recon. Find out what's changed. Meet me back here in three hours okay?"

He nodded, and she disappeared. Now he was left with nothing to do but wait.

oOo

Three hours later, give or take, Rei returned and beelined over to him, not waiting for an invitation to sit with him. "You are screwed."

"What? Why what happened?"

She looked around, either for prying ears or for a server. "I need a drink. Like, alcohol."

"Jesus, Rei just tell me!"

She sighed, slumping deeply into the booth. "I don't know what is going on, why everything is just wrong now. Usagi is different, the girls are different...Mamoru-san, they don't remember being Guardians. It's like that part of our lives has been completely erased."

"God..I hadn't even thought about that."

He had been so consumed with Usagi and getting to her, he hadn't even thought about his powers or theirs. Could he even transform?

Raye took a large breath, steadying herself. "And you and Usagi…"

He waited, but she froze, his frustration leading to irritation. "What, Rei? Spit it out now!"

She shook her head and looked away as if it would help her tell him what had happened between him and Usako in this messed up world. "Apparently, you still went to America. Only you slept with Usagi before you left and never called her again. Just left. And when you came back, you were engaged to someone else. I'm assuming that person was Beryl."

He was in shock. Never could he ever had done something so cruel to Usagi, his Usako. He felt sick; a mixture of shock, dread, and pure revulsion at the Mamoru of this world. He ran, just making it to a trash can in time. A hand rubbed his back after a second, Raye coming over to him.

His stomach was now completely empty, but food the last thing on his mind. He stood and looked at the Miko. "Why is this happening, Rei? And why are we unaffected? Everyone else believes the lie? What is all of this?"

"I...I don't know…"

She trembled, fear seeping through her words. "You said...the fire showed you something. What did it show you?"

"It showed...pain. Us in pain. And asleep."

"Asleep?" She nodded, looking at the floor instead of him. "So...we are asleep?... That would explain it."

Her head popped up, staring him down. "How does that make sense?"

"Because," he leaned against the wall, feeling very tired all of a sudden, "I'm the ruler of Elysium, the Kingdom of Dreams. Once I gained access to the Golden Crystal, I have control over dreams, including this one. You are a priestess who repels evil even in her sleep. We're both immune. This also means Beryl has nothing to do with it. She has no way to access that kind of power."

She was silent, processing all he had said. He walked around her and made for the door. "Wait, Mamoru, where are you going?"

"I'm going after Usagi. I'm going to bring her and the rest of us out of this nightmare!"

"Wait, Mamoru, there's more!" He froze, not sure he was ready for much more. "She's engaged."

"Yes, I know I just asked her."

She shook her head, dread filling her eyes. "No, I mean to someone else."

"Who?"

She hesitated, "Seiya."

"SEIYA! That hermaphroditic, womanizing, little punk? I could break him in two, no question. He is not a problem."

She grabbed his arm, managing to stop his departure once more. "It is a problem if she loves him!"

He glared back at into her violet eyes. "She does not love him. Trust me. She loves me. Always has, always will."

"She loves a different Mamoru just as you love a different Usagi. She is different here, Mamoru. She is darker."

He shook his head vehemently. "She's not different. It's just the dream. They are forcing her to be dark. But I know who she is. And I will wake her and the rest of us up. Before it is too late."

He shrugged off her hold and made it out the door this time. "Mamoru!" He turned, not stopping, and walking backwards. "She's at her parent's house but just for tonight. She's moving in with Seiya tomorrow."

Trying to ignore the voice in his head, the one that was saying how it should be his place she was moving into, he clenched his fist and headed straight for Usagi's house.

oOo

He was actually nervous. In the real world, he had met Usagi's parents several times but as the boyfriend. Now he was coming as the heartbreaker. He had no idea what to expect.

Knocking, he waited but not for long as the door was pulled open quickly. There she was again, standing before him but as a completely different person than the one he fell asleep with less than 24 hours ago.

"Who is it dear?"

He could recognize her mother's voice even from the kitchen. "Oh..it's uh….no one mom. Just Jehovah's witness."

"Tell them we are busy. Dinner is almost ready!"

"Okay, Mom!"

She pressed on his chest, pushing him back as she came out and shut the door behind herself.

"What are you DOING here?!"

She hissed at him, a harsh whisper that she only used when she was pissed but trying to hide it from the world. "I need to talk to you."

"You had your chance to talk to me. It is way too late for that now."

"Usagi...I love you."

She froze, stuck in unknowing. Not sure if she should believe him or believe he said it. "Stop it."

"I love you."

"I said stop it!"

"I've loved you my whole life! Ever since I met you. Ever since you came to me in that hospital. The day you gave me that rose." There was no sign of pain, and he felt no ice. Apparently, this was a memory that was safe to mention. "Do you remember?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and took a step away from him. "I remember. I remember you using those exact words to get me to sleep with you, and then you being gone in the morning. And I remember waiting and waiting, actually believing you would call. That you would tell me it was all a misunderstanding or that you just got scared. That you did, in fact, love me and didn't just use me."

That was why. Whoever did this had used one of his most precious memories and twisted it around. Sullening it and making it something perverse. He was going to rip them apart when he got out of here. He had to get her to see another way. Get her to see that he loved her and that she loved him. Their past was not going to help him, if he were allowed to use a real memory, it would be because it was already twisted in this world.

So he had to find another way, a way to break through the wall that had been placed between the two of them. He knew deep down inside that she was the key. That their love would be what broke them out of this horror show; would take them back home.

The only thing he could think of was to play the game, play along and find a way in, just as Usagi had done for him every time he was lost. "I was scared. Usagi, I have never loved anyone as much as I love you and it scared me. But I'm not scared anymore, and I need you. Usagi, I need you more than anything." Well, he only partly lied.

"So, you expect me to what? Tell you that it's okay? That you breaking my heart and treating me like trash is all forgiven and we can be together now? Forever?" It felt like a trap, but he still nodded. "Yeah well it doesn't work like that now does it? Look, I get it, you have cold feet. It happens to all of us. But I am marrying Seiya, and you will marry...whats her name. And we will be happy okay? So leave me alone."

She turned, heading back to her door and he grabbed her. "Usako, wait."

Ripping his hold off of her, she turned on him, her eyes glaring with darkness he had never seen before in her eyes. "I told you to NEVER call me that."

It was then that he saw it, even with her raging at him. Her eyes...they were blank. Gone was the shine and twinkle that they always held. They were empty. A product of the nightmare they were under? Perhaps. But he couldn't stand her looking like that, like this.

He grabbed her again before she could turn back around and forced his lips against hers. She stiffened, tried to push him away. But that only lasted a second and soon she was pulling him into her and holding him tight.

Her lips molded to his and he found himself getting lost in the haze that was his Usagi, his Usako. They both stepped back, pressing her against the door. Her hands roamed over his chest and back, but he kept his firmly planted to her hips. The last thing he wanted was her thinking he wanted sex from her. He wanted her to feel his love for her. To believe him. And for her eyes to shine like they did before.

Part him hoped that this would be just like the fairy tale, that he would just have to kiss his princess and she would awake, ending the hell they were currently stuck in. But this was no fairy tale.

After a moment, she broke away, pulling her lips and her head down to look at the ground. "This is wrong. We can't do this. I love Seiya, and you love someone else."

He grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him, and he was pleased to find a small spark hidden deep in her eyes. "I love you. And you love me."

This time, he placed kisses on her cheeks and forehead which caused her to giggle. But she still pushed him away again, this time even farther. "I never doubted that we had….passion between us. But that is not enough, and you know it. Now go home to your fiance and let's just pretend this never happened okay?"

She turned, opening her front door and he pressed on it, forcing it close again. "I don't want to pretend! And this is more than passion, and you know it. Why are you lying to yourself?!"

She stiffened, and he finally got it, why her eyes were so lifeless and why she was so cold. "Usagi….he hurts you, doesn't he?"

Cowering away from him, she shrunk as much as she could into the door. "Mamoru….just...stop okay?"

He pulled her back up, unable to stand seeing his strong and brave Usako act so weak. "This isn't you. The Usagi I know would never let someone treat her this way."

She struggled in his hold, trying to break free. "I said stop it, Mamoru. You don't know me, and you don't know him. What he will do to me...to you."

"I am not afraid, and you shouldn't be either."

Managing to get her in his arms again, he held her tight, and she shuddered hard against him. As if a simple act of kindness was foreign to her. But she didn't let it last, pushing him off of her hard.

"You...you did this to me! I never would have….I would have been fine! But you came and took from me….made me into nothing! I am lucky to have someone like Seiya who loves me unconditionally. So stay the hell away from me!"

Her door slammed in his face, the nightmare taking hold again. The darkness was winning.

oOo

He felt as if he was getting sick, tired and achy all over. Must be a side effect of staying "awake" in the dream.

Stumbling back into his apartment, he found it cold and dark. And not only because all the lights were turned off; it lacked his personal ball of light Usako.

He took off and placed his shoes in the genkan respectfully, walking all the way to the kitchen in the dark before turning on a light. Filling a glass with water from the tap, he downed the whole amount in a few seconds, setting the cup heavily on the counter. After filling it up again, he turned towards his living room, dropping his glass at the sight.

"Where have you been?"

His voice stuck in his throat, the shock of seeing her scaring it stiff. "I was….I went to find…."

"You went to see her, didn't you?"

Beryl shifted on the couch, crossing her arms over her chest as her eyes stared off into space. "Yes, of course, I did."

Jumping up, she paced the small space between the couch and the coffee table. "I am trying to be understanding here, Mamoru. Trying to give you some space and let you figure this out. But it is tough to let the love of your life run around and kiss old flames."

"You saw that? You were following me?!"

She froze, giving him a smirk. "It was a guess, but now I know it for sure."

He took a few careful steps forward, trying to avoid the glass, but kept the breakfast bar between them. "I told you this morning that you an I are over, Beryl."

Her pacing started up again. "Yeah and if I ran every time you tried to end things with me, then I wouldn't have this ring on my finger right now, would I?"

She held up her hand for a second and something flashed, but she put it down too quickly for him to get a real good look at it. "I don't remember any of that…."

"So you say. But don't you think it's all just a little convenient Mamoru? Your little tryst gets engaged, and now you have amnesia?"

His stomach flip-flopped at the mention of his treatment towards Usako. "That was a mistake…"

A sad chuckle came out of her. "That's not what you told me. I remember you saying something along the lines of, 'a little girl who was obsessed with you, so you put her out of her misery'...so to speak."

"Maybe that's what you would call it…."

It was becoming painfully clear that Beryl was in fact, a pawn in this. A reminder of another mistake he had made. In his first life when he mistook her as a simple love-struck girl and in this life when he fell into her trap and became her slave. All of this was just some sick form of punishment for all the dumbass mistakes he had made as Endymion and Mamoru. What would be next? Friends that were dead sent to haunt him for his failings?

"No, Mamoru, that's what you called it, assuring me it was nothing and now look where we are."

She had stopped pacing, staring at him with cold dead eyes. "So what are you doing here?"

A dark chuckle came from her, "I live here."

"Not anymore you don't."

"I'm here because I love you, Mamoru, and we belong together."

On instinct, his head began to shake, rocking back and forth. "No, no we don't. That is not true!"

Finally, she took her eyes off of him and went towards the door. "Clearly, you need a bit more time to get your head together. I will give you some, but not much. And you better not go near that girl again or so help me, Mamoru Chiba, you will both regret it."

He shuddered slightly when she slammed the door. Now empty again, he looked around his apartment, actually able to feel the change in the atmosphere from her departure. Even in this world, Beryl was filled with so much hatred and disdain, it ate her up inside. And it threatened his beautiful world once again.

But in this world, she was human. Which was good since he lacked any power to defend himself against her. But he still couldn't kill her like they did in their world. Here it would be murder.

No, he would have to find a way to deal with her in a...human way. Not that he had any experience in dealing with scorned lovers. Even as Endymion, he had just ignored them. Which was what partially got them killed in that life, so he already knew that was a bad idea.

Stress and doubt filled in his chest, swelling and filling to the point of discomfort. He had no clue how to handle Beryl or any clue how to prove his love to his beautiful, but broken, Usako. He never realized until now, just how easy he had had it all these years. The Usako he knew gave her love so easily; even too cold-hearted beast like him.

He would do what he could, the only thing he knew how to do. He would love her and be there for her. It was what he did in the past...or rather, in their real lives. Maybe Rei could help him, give him an inside look at the Usako of this world.

Cleaning up the glass that was spread across his kitchen floor, he couldn't help but chuckle sadly at the resemblance it had to his current life. Shattered in pieces, nothing but fractured pieces that once fit together in beauty and purpose.

oOo

If you asked anyone, anyone besides those who knew him best -those who knew him best outside of this messed up world he was thrust into- they would say what he was now doing was stalking. But that would be because they didn't know the truth.

Rei had been able to get Usagi's schedule and regular route around town. Even the now altered one since she had moved in with Seiya. Seiya….what a prick. Who in their right mind would ever pair those two together?

He had yet to see said prick, not showing himself around Usagi at all. It made it hard to believe that the two were actually together. That is until he followed her to a restaurant one night.

The guy didn't pick her up, he made her meet him there. Which, one might say, is no big deal, but he ALWAYS picked Usa up for their dates! And Seiya didn't pull her chair out for her or anything! He nearly spat with anger when he noticed that Usagi did not pick up a menu; Seiya ordered for her! And by the looks of it, he ordered her a salad. No way his Usagi would ever stand for that. What had this world done to her?!

Fear ran through his blood like ice. What if it wasn't reversible? What if this was how Usagi would be from now on?

No. NO! He wouldn't let that happen, let this happen! He may never be with Usako again but he sure as hell wouldn't let her live this life, this sheltered and controlled life. She deserved more.

That was the only time he would allow himself to doubt, to let this world pull him in and change him. He would not give up; would fight till his last breath to save Usagi from this hell that they were in.

He followed, a respectable distance, as they left the restaurant and started walking towards the park, it looked like. It was dark and empty, not a time that Usa typically liked being there. At least his Usako didn't like it then. But that may have more to do with all the long nights they had spent fighting off monsters and saving the world in the dark park. That was not a reality in this world.

They had come to a particularly desolate spot, the two of them coming to a halt. Seiya leaned over, whispering something to his Usako, before turning entirely to face him. A smirk on his face, Seiya left Usagi to stand alone, leaving her behind, while he stalked slowly towards him.

He had his hands shoved into his pockets, waiting for Seiya to join him, all while glancing back and forth between the two of them. Usagi was tense and frozen, watching. Clearly, she was scared. Something told him she wasn't frightened for either of them though, having no doubts that the two of them could handle themselves. No, she was scared for herself. This was just the beginning of her night. What Seiya had in store for her later was far more terrifying than what was about to happen between the two of them.

"Chiba Mamoru."

"Kou Seiya."

Seiya chuckled, his hands going into his pockets to mimic him. "I guess you have been doing your research!"

He smirked, his eyes dancing back to his blonde for just a second. "Yeah, I did my research. I know you are a cop, which explains why you are able to get away with beating your girlfriend."

He struggled to get the word 'girlfriend' out, knowing that he was referencing Usako, something that did not go unnoticed by Seiya.

"Looks like you got some faulty information their buddy. I only lay hands on my girl in acts of pleasure, not pain. That is unless she wants it if you know what I mean."

He knew that, more than anything, he wanted to lay his fist on him in pain. And it would be his pleasure to do so. That was what Seiya was hoping for; he was baiting him. Which meant only one thing. Seiya was scared of him. Maybe he knew that he was about to turn this world, his world, upside down. Or rather, right side up. They were already in an upside-down existence.

"I'm going to have to ask you to stop following my fiance around now. It was cute at first. Funny, even. But now it is just sad and borderline obsessive."

He didn't bother to hide his smirk, enjoying the small and almost imperceptible shift in Seiya's gloat. But he saw it.

"What are you afraid of Seiya? What I will see? Or what she will?"

Even though he saw it coming and could easily have dodged it, he let Seiya punch him. The pain radiated through his skull from his cheek, up to his eye, and through the bone that protected his brain. Although, it didn't protect him from much of the electrified heat that was now passing through.

Looking at the ground, he waited, giving himself time to regain himself. But he didn't even think about hitting back. No, he didn't want to start a brawl. That would only scare Usagi. He was there for her, not some teenage drama that was settled with a battle of fists.

Without fear, he looked up, right at her. Her hands covered her mouth, and both of her eyes were locked on his. The terror that she felt was palpable. Did Seiya not feel it? Or did he not care? He probably got off on it.

Not wanting to give Seiya any pleasure in this, he offered Usa a small smile, hoping to dispel some of her fear. It worked...a little.

"I don't give a fuck what you see, you freak. Stay away from my girl! Because, next time, you won't be so lucky!"

Mamoru didn't even spare him a glance, he was busy holding Usagi's, her unwavering stare at him was more than enough to make him forget about the pain. She was worth it. She was worth it times a thousand.

Standing upright, he towered over the sad, angry man and he did his best not to bring down a rain of hellfire that he so desperately wanted to for touching Usako. He managed not to lay a hand on him, even as he walked away, collecting Usa as he left. He returned his eyes to her, finding her still watching him even as Seiya began to pull her away.

oOo

"That was really stupid, Mamoru. He is a cop, after all."

This was what he was reduced to, standing in a dark and dirty alley all so he could listen to Rei chastise him about his choices.

"It was worth it."

His eye had swollen shut. Having no access to his accelerated healing, he was left with dealing with the pain the old fashioned way. "Worth the target that is undoubtedly on your back now?"

Shrugging, he continued to lean against the wall of the arcade that made up half of the alley. Usagi was just behind it, working her shift. And Rei was to meet her at the end, hoping to get more information out of her of the extent of her relationship with Seiya.

"If you saw her, Rei...the way she cowers around him….and how he controls her?!"

"Believe me, I've seen it. He makes a point of dropping by every single meeting we have. And it is clear that she is both embarrassed but powerless to stop it."

"You have to get her to talk about it. Today, Rei. I don't know how much longer I can keep from ripping the guy to shreds. She has to admit it, and it has to be to you!"

"Get me to admit what?"

The two of them popped their heads to the voice, finding her bathed in sunlight. Arms crossed defiantly across her chest with an angry scowl on her face, he found she never looked more like her beautiful and powerful self than she did at that moment.

"Is this how you were able to follow me? Rei told you how to find me?" Her eyes went across the alley over to Rei, who stood frozen in apprehension. "Why Rei? Why are you helping him?! To torture me? All because I slept with him and you didn't? Trust me I did you a favor! But if you still want him that badly, then you can have him."

She turned on her heel, her form quickly leaving the light and their sight. Both of them chased after her, calling out to her.

"Wait, Usa! It's not like that!"

"Rei is just as concerned about you as I am. We both love you, Usako! We would never hurt you!"

Her back to them, she stopped, all three of them freezing on the sidewalk. A few people passed by them, a few glancing at the scene but mostly keeping on and minding their own business.

Suddenly, she spun on her heel again, this time to face them. Tears were streaming down her face, and it cracked his heart. She took one step closer to them, holding up a threatening finger between them.

"You love me? If you love me so damn much, why are you trying to ruin my life? Both of you?!"

Rei sputtered, not knowing how to handle an angry Usagi. He, however, was a pro. "Because it is not real life, Usako. Not a good one. You are not happy…."

"I am! I am happy!"

"I don't believe you!"

"I AM! I'm blissfully and completely happy! I didn't even know what happiness was until I met my fiance! He makes me whole and I am….happy!"

"Then say his name."

She blanched, all the beautiful rosy color that had risen into her cheeks falling away. "What?"

He took another step closer, the distance between them shrinking away to nothing. "Say his name. Not him, or he, or even fiance. Say the name of the man that makes you so blissfully happy."

Rei stood silently behind them, caught up in the moment or just waiting breathlessly so not to interrupt. Usagi stood still as well, her head angled upward, so her eyes were on him. Her was breath ragged, and they were so close. He could feel her hot breaths as they puffed quickly across his face. It took everything he had not to close the distance, to kiss her with all his might and never let go of her again.

He knew her well enough that she felt the same, her mouth opening and closing from the little puffs of air flowing past her cherry colored lips. She kept hinging on her toes, inching up ever so slightly only to fall back down again. Did she really think he didn't notice? Between that and her eyes that danced from his eyes to his mouth, it was obvious.

But then she fell away, her face crumpling as she closed up on him again. "What difference does it make? Why do you even care?"

He couldn't take it, grabbing her chin and pulling her back up to look at him. "I told you, I told you a hundred times. In this life, in the past life, in every life, we are in together. I love you. I always have and I always will. You are my soulmate, Usako."

Seconds passed….then minutes….the moment seeming to stretch on in eternity as she let him hold her like that, her chin in his fingertips and their breath mingling together between them. Her eyes so wide he thought they might just pop out of her skull while her mouth remained frozen in an 'oh' shape. He wondered if they would just stay like that forever, stuck in indecision all while hopelessly desiring to be together.

"Mamo-chan…."

It was soft, a whisper, but he heard it just the same. An invitation, a question, a plea for him to take her far away from this world.

He lowered his head, planning on doing just that when a squeal stopped him. Before he could register what was happening, he was ripped away from her and shoved against the brick wall, hard.

Hitting his head against the firm surface, his vision swam. Twisting and shadowy, he listened instead of watched, hearing the shuffling of feet and curse words being shared. A mixture of voices surrounded him now, along with three shadows. Plus the two behind them that were trying to fight their way into him.

"Seiya! Stop this now!"

"Shut up, Tsukino! I will deal with you later."

It was hard not to notice the silence that fell after that from his blonde. "Stop this right now, all of you!"

Another voice that was vaguely familiar raged darkly back at Rei. "Ma'am. You need to step back. This is police business."

The waves of his vision stilled, allowing him to take in the scene that now surrounded him. But then he had to shake his head, thinking he had damaged his brain in the small tossel.

Before he was Seiya, in the middle, the ring leader. However, on either side of him was Kunzite and Nephrite. They looked a little older and wore policeman uniforms. The most significant change of all was their hair though, now cut military short, their long ponytail length hair was gone.

The three of them loomed over him, but he refused to cower before them. Besides, he was still busy trying to figure out the new and unexpected characters that had appeared. Beryl was here too, which had been shocking all on its own. Now he had half the Dark Kings glaring at him again. The men who were once his most loyal guards in another life. But now it seemed, they were destined to be his enemies in this one.

"Look, Dr. Chiba. I tried to be nice last night, and I let you off easy. But clearly, that was a mistake. So let me tell you a bit more loudly. Stay away from my girl!"

Kunz and Neph moved in closer, the two of them expected to do Seiya's dirty work. Of course. The spineless weasel only hits those who can't hit back. He likes them defenseless.

He looked around, wanting to find Usako again before the pain started. She was standing in Rei's hold, frozen in absolute terror. This time, the fear was for him.

"Usako….don't watch."

Her eyes went wide but then crumpled, her whole face falling again as she cried tears for him. Rei tried to pull her away, but she refused to leave, not wanting to leave the scene. Great, now she gets a backbone.

"Excuse me, but just what the hell do all of you think you are doing?"

Even the three menacing creeps stopped and turned to look at the new voice. But none of them seemed as shocked as he was.

A few steps away stood none other than Jadeite. He had on a smooth suit and tie with his hair slicked back and down, so it held no curl. And he was glaring at the group that surrounded him.

"This is police business, sir. Please step back."

Jed did the opposite of Neph's orders, taking another step closer. "As an active member of this city's judicial system, I cannot allow you to continue to harass this man."

Neph cursed under his breath, "Oh great, a lawyer."

"Sir, thank you for your concern, but you have no clue as to what is going on here. This is official police business…."

"What is his crime?"

Seiya balked, "Excuse me?!"

"You heard me. What is he accused of?"

Kunz took it upon himself to grab hold of him, pressing him hard against the brick wall to keep him from going anywhere. As if to tell him, not so subtly, they were not going to let him go. Ever. It occurred to him only now that they could do worse than beat him up. Plant evidence and bring up bogus charges. Anything they could to keep him away from Usagi.

"Look, buddy, we appreciate your concern and all, but unless you are HIS lawyer, we can't say a single word…."

"I am his lawyer."

Jadeite was not backing down. It reminded him of their first life together, how loyal his guard had once been. Not the two currently holding him down, of course.

At Jed's claim, all eyes turned back to him. "Yeah...yeah, he is….he's my lawyer…."

They didn't look convinced, still holding onto him as tightly as they kept their mouths shut. "Dr. Mamoru Chiba is my client and therefore, I demand that you tell me what he is charged with or release him."

He quickly snatched his jaw off the ground before the other three caught it. Seiya continued to eye him carefully while Kunz finally decided to speak.

"He is charged with aggravated assault and stalking."

"None of that is true!"

Rei voice rang out over the group, her pleas seeming to fall on deaf ears and he found himself wishing it came from Usagi. At least that way he would know she wasn't wholly catatonic at the moment.

He followed Jed's stare, the former general looking right at the girls. "And which of you is the victim exactly?"

They were both silent, and he watched as Usagi vehemently shook her head 'no.' The motion stopped when Seiya turned his head to look at them. Glaring over at Usagi hard. "Well?"

Remaining silent and still, he knew what Usagi was now risking for him. And if Seiya dared to so much as breathe in her direction with malice, he would commit assault against an officer in front of everyone.

"It appears as though you have no accusations, officers. Or witnesses. Save for your assault of an unarmed man who is clearly not resisting. So unless you want me to have your badges taken away, I suggest you step away from my client and never touch him again without a warrant."

Neph and Kunz took a big step back while Seiya held his ground, glaring at him once again. "Fine, we'll get a warrant then."

Something told him this was not a bluff. He was sure that Seiya was already formulating a plan to have him wanted for some kind of crime. Evidence and all probably.

Kunz and Neph made their way back to their car while Seiya continued to stare him down. Maybe he thought he was actually intimidating, but Mamoru mostly found it laughable.

Jed appeared at his side, a reminder to the dirty cop that he had his back. Seiya flicked his eyes back to Usagi. "Let's go, Usagi."

When Usagi didn't move, Seiya took a threatening step towards her, causing her to jump. Rei caught her while Jed caught him, stopping him from fulfilling that assault charge he was already fighting against committing.

Seiya seemed to notice that he was outnumbered and outwitted. "Fine, I'll see you at home then."

Sparing him one last withering glare, he stomped away like a petulant child. He hopped into his black and white and sped off, making sure the tires squealed as he left so he could have the last word for sure.

"Usa, you can't go back to him." Rei was shaking, her fear for her friend quaking her to her bones.

"What would you have me do, Rei? Oh wait, I know, you would have me go home with him, wouldn't you!" Her hand shook as she held up a single finger towards him.

"You can stay with me at the temple!"

"Oh yeah, that will be just great. And as soon as Seiya finds me, which he will with ease, what do you think will happen?!"

"Miss, are you in fear of your well being or health? From that cop?" Jed still stood by his side but watched the two girls intently.

"That cop is my fiance, and I am not afraid of anything!"

"Yes, you are!" She glared at him but didn't stop him either. "You are letting him run your life, Usa. This is not you, you are not this girl!"

A sad smirk twisted painfully on her lips. "Oh? If I'm not this girl then who am I? Please tell me, Mamoru, so I know just who it is I should be?"

He took an involuntary step towards her. "You are strong and beautiful. A force of nature that no one dares to stop or turn away from."

"Funny….since you had no problem turning away from me."

His body moved closer still to hers, unable to control the pull she had on him. "You know that's not true."

She kept her eyes to the ground, knowing that if she looked at him, he would draw her back in like he had moments ago. Right before Seiya interrupted. If that jackass hadn't shown up, this whole thing could be over with by now. Anger swelled inside him again at the thought, of just how close he had gotten to freeing them only to be thwarted.

Usagi was still looking at the ground, shaking her head in disbelief. "If you won't stay with Rei or me, then you should go stay with your parents."

Her head snapped back up at that. "My parents! Are you mad! I can't go back to their place, they would be so embarrassed! I would have truly shamed them by going back!"

"At least you would be safe! They care more about that than anything else!"

Rei was begging her, but there was something else they had missed about this world. "You know as well as anyone, Rei, that my parents care more about appearances than anything else. Even if I went to them on hands and knees, they would lock me out and tell me to go home."

"Even if he is beating you?!"

Now she looked at him, but it was with a glare. "I don't expect you to understand, Mamoru. We can't all have picture perfect lives like you!"

"Perfect? My life is far from perfect…"

"Oh yeah and just what do you have to complain about Mr. Ivy league? You never had to worry about your future as I have. And I still don't have a future. I am nothing!"

He didn't know when it happened, but somehow he ended up standing right in front of her again. "My life is not perfect if you are not in it and I have no future without you."

Her mouth dropped open as if to say something, but then she picked it back up again. Turning away from him, she remained silent, and for a moment, he thought she was just going to shut him out once again.

"Fine. I will stay with Rei."

Rei wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leading her away. "Come on. We will stop at your place to get some things first."

"You call me if anything happens, the second it does!"

He yelled after their retreating forms, Rei giving him a glance and a nod in understanding before they disappeared.

He jumped when Jed placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, having forgotten he was there. "I think you owe me a cup of coffee and an explanation."

oOo

"What about Beryl?"

He scrubbed his face, not daring to look up from his coffee for fear of judgement. "She is not happy about it, of course. Even made a few threats."

Jed chuckled across from him, causing him to look up at the dapper man. "Can't say I'm too surprised. About any of it. Everyone could see that she was far more into you than you were her. She even went around and told everyone that you were engaged, forcing your hand in the manner. But I always knew that she did that out of fear."

"Fear? What was she afraid of?"

Jed shook his head, a small smile on his face. "You always were clueless, even to your own feelings. She was afraid you would do exactly what you are doing now! Ever since you moved back, it was only a matter of time before you went back to Usagi."

What Jed said made sense to him, but that was because he wasn't the same Mamoru this Jadeite knew. "What are you talking about? I was always going to go back to Usagi?"

"Well, no one had ever made you run like that before. And you ran pretty far too. All the way to America. Anything you could to get as far away from that girl as you could."

"But….why would I do that?"

Jed took a long sip of his coffee, finishing it off. "Beats me. Always thought it was because you were just a chicken shit and ran because you didn't want to face the fact that you were in love with Usagi. Guess I was right after all." He stood, tossing a few bills on the table. "If you so much as see that Seiya guy ten blocks away from you, head in the other direction. You call me immediately. Guy has 'dirty cop' written all over him. And I don't doubt that he is mistreating Tsukino. That is something guys like him do not let go of easily either. Those guys never let go of their punching bags willingly."

Only making it to the door, Jadeite turned back to look when his phone rang. Rei's name popping up on his screen while Jed studied him and his phone carefully. Neither of them said a word nor answered the phone, rushing out the door and heading straight for the temple.

oOo

They neared the top of the stairs, finding what was so urgent that required them to appear after only leaving Usagi to Rei's care two hours ago. Minako, Makoto, and Ami stood at the top, Rei blocking their entrance to the temple. There was also a man, but he stood off to the side, not wanting to get involved it looked like.

Rei caught the two of them over the girl's heads and a small amount of relief spread across her face. "Good, you came quickly."

The three turned, shock turning quickly to fury. "What the hell is HE doing here?!"

Ami grabbed Makoto's arm, stilling her from pouncing on them. "Chill, Makoto. There must be an explanation for all of this." He gave Ami a grateful smile that faded the moment her eyes steeled against his. "Or rather, there better be one."

"Geez, Ames, calm yourself. It's not like Rei is letting either of them in instead of you!"

He did a double take as Zoicite walked over to him, clapping a hand over his shoulder in approval before strutting back over to Ami and wrapping his arms around her.

"I'm sure my boy Mamoru has a good reason for being here. Jed wouldn't come with him otherwise."

So, not only was Jed his friend and lawyer, Zoi was a friend as well. And dating Ami. This world had his head spinning.

Minako stomped her foot, gaining everyone's attention again. "Let us see her, right now, Rei!"

Rei crossed her arms over her chest, unrelenting. "Not unless you can promise me that you won't try and drag her out of here or call up your boyfriends. None of them can know she is here!"

"Oh come on, Rei," Minako was acting like a spoiled brat, determined to get her way. "It's not like they don't know already. Or have an idea. Just let us see Usagi!"

"If she wants to see you, she will come out herself. She knows you're here!"

"God, Rei, you're being such a bitch!"

Makoto joined Minako's side, the two of them circling up on the priestess in an attempt to intimidate her. These were not the same girls that would die for one another in the world he came from.

"What kind of friends are you?" He couldn't control the tone or the volume of his voice, chastising the girls Usagi once called her sisters. "How long have you all known? How long have you ignored the fact that your best friend was being abused?"

They each sneered at him, Ami loosening herself from Zoi's hold to join the other two in their 'attack.'

"And who the hell are you, to question us?"

"Oh that's right," Makoto started in, being particularly cruel, "you're the guy that screwed her and then dumped her!"

"Since when do you care what happens to her?"

He looked deep into each of their eyes, finding nothing but guilt. They were angry, but not at him.

"So you were all just blissful in your ignorance then? I'm sorry you have had to face facts, but the truth is, Usagi is in need of help. So will you do what is best for her? No matter the cost?"

Their anger began to fade, turning into what looked more like fear or worry. He wasn't sure if they were afraid of the choice they would have to make, worried they wouldn't be able to make it, or afraid of what would happen to them if they did make the choice.

"You guys don't need to do anything."

Every eye and body turned, his blonde angel emerging from behind the rice paper door of the temple.

Her eyes were bright red, and her cheeks were scorched from her tears. Clear lines went down her face from her eyes to her jaw. She had been crying hard for hours. Probably since she left him. And she was shaking. Even in the warm sun as she approached them.

"I will take care of this myself."

He moved up a step, Jed following right behind him. "Like hell, you will…"

"And I don't need anyone's help. Especially those who I haven't heard a peep from in years!"

Usagi now stood next to Rei, looking out over all of those who were there just for her. It was then that he saw a glimmer of light in her eyes again. Her beautiful bright blue eyes swept over the group.

"You should all go. I don't want any of you here when Seiya shows up."

They all yelled their protests, not noticing the three men that were rising up the stairs. Not until it was too late.

Makoto was picked up effortlessly by a gleeful Nephrite while Minako squealed and jumped on Kunzite. But a look of worry passed from Rei to Usagi, and to Ami.

"Usagi….can we...talk?"

Turning slightly, he caught sight of Seiya, whose eyes found his once he was turned and went from a 'sad sack' kind of look to rage.

"What the fuck is he doing here?!"

Looking back to Usagi, he saw her take a small step back and then shrug. "This is a public place, Seiya. I have no control over who comes or goes."

It seemed as though all eyes watched the tennis game, going back and forth between the two of them. But he mostly watched Usagi. "Come on, Usagi. Let's go home."

"...no."

"Excuse me?"

"I said no. If you want to talk, then you can do it here, in front of everyone."

Usagi crossed her arms over her chest, defiantly. "You know that I do not like to have my personal life be so public…"

"Tough. I am not going anywhere with you!"

He heard Seiya come closer and he pulled his attention away from Usagi, coming to stand in front of the plain clothed officer silently. Letting him know that he would have to go through him to get to her.

Seiya shot him a glare but then softened instantly as he looked behind him to his Usako. "Usa….I love you."

He heard her let out an exasperated sigh and glanced back at her. She was looking at the ground shaking her head. "I am so tired of hearing those words. Especially when I know they are lies." Her head snapped back up, looking between the two of them. "If you truly love me, then prove it. Saying it isn't enough."

She focused solely on Seiya, staring him down. "If you really love me, Seiya, then leave. Prove it to me by walking away now and giving me some space."

Seiya opened his mouth, probably to protest, but shut it again quickly. With a quick nod, he spun on his heel and made his way back down the massive set of stairs.

He made it a few steps before calling out behind him, not even turning around. "Neph, Kunz, are you coming?"

The irritation was evident in his voice, and for the first time, he looked back, taking note of the current positions of his once generals. Jed was still by his side while Neph moved as if to follow. But Makoto stopped him, grabbing onto his shirt and giving him a glare that had him shuddering. Kunz didn't even move, his head planted in the crook of Minako's neck. She had him in a comatose state as she rubbed his back. It was clear to him that neither of the two were going with Seiya, or had given all their loyalty to the raging man below them. At least he had that on his side. If he got the girls on his side, then maybe he could get some protection from Seiya's long arm of the law.

When the two remained silent and still, Seiya growled but continued his way down alone. Silence fell thick over the group as they feared even the smallest of moments. Things had gone so smoothly, it felt as if they were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"You guys should go."

Slowly, they all dared to move, just to look at the blonde who stood above them all. Even with her shortened hair and battered face, she looked just like the gorgeous and fearless leader he had always known her to be.

"But Usa…."

She raised a hand, effectively silencing Ami and any and all other words of protest. "You guys have done more than enough for me today, okay? Thank you."

Slowly but surely, they all turned to leave, making their way down the stairs with the occasional glance back at Usagi and glare over at him. But their glares had already softened significantly. If there was anything he knew how to do and do well, it was win over the Senshi. He had done it already multiple times in both of his lives. Right now, they hated him only slightly, and that was a big win in his book.

Now it was just him, Jed, Rei, and Usagi. All eyes but Usa's danced around from one another, the silence building once again.

"Well, you are coming home tonight right, Rei?"

Now his eyes flashed to Jed, who was looking at Rei expectantly. "I'm...I'm sorry?"

Jed chuckled softly. "I am back in town now. You don't have to stay at the temple. Although, I still don't know why you feel safer here than in our apartment, love."

He looked over at Rei, her eyes wide in shock and confusion on her lips. "Huh?"

"Babe," Jed let out a sigh, a tired one, "it has been a long day. Let's just go home. Usagi will be safer there with us than here anyway. No way that Seiya guy can get through our security." Jed took off his jacket, the heat of the day finally getting to him, and slung it over his shoulder while looking over at him, "You don't have a shift tonight, right? Why don't you join us for dinner? It has been too long since you have been over. I think the last time was before you left for America, isn't that right, hon?"

He looked back at a flabbergasted Rei once more before looking back at Mamoru, "Come on, you can ride with us."

Glancing over at Usagi, he caught her eyes, her watching him and Rei the whole time. The look on her face...made him worry. "I'll just go get my things."

She back away slowly, her eyes still looking between the two of them before turning around and quickly walking back to the temple.

With her out of sight, he followed Jed down the steps. "So uh...remind me again. How long have you and Rei been together?"

Jed looked at him, flashing him a smile. "I guess it's not your style to remember those kinds of things. We dated for about two years. Married a year and a half ago. You were supposed to be there remember?"

Strangely, he actually felt guilty. "Sorry."

Jed chuckled this time, loudly. "Just as well, I suppose. Usagi was a bridesmaid. And she ended up bringing that Seiya guy."

"Why do you call him that? You obviously know him if he is with Usagi."

He shrugged, "It's what Rei always calls him. Just kinda stuck, I guess. Rei never liked him, and I trust her judgement. She has such insight into people, it's scary sometimes!"

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

He clapped a hand on his back, surprising him and almost causing him to tumble down the remaining stairs. "She always liked you, though. Even though you were a real ass. Probably the only reason you were ever allowed over to our place in the first place."

"Maybe her senses aren't flawless after all."

He gave Jed a small, sad, smile and Jed just gave him a nod in return, remaining silent until the girls arrived at the car.

oOo

"Hey, Mamoru. Can you give me a hand real quick!"

He glanced over at Usagi and Jed, both immersed in conversation, Usagi looking a lot better than she had an hour ago.

Slipping away from the two, he found Rei tightly pacing the kitchen. "What the hell, Mamoru? What am I supposed to do? I have absolutely no memory of this relationship!"

He grabbed her shoulders, stopping her movements. "Relax. You have been married…"

"Married!"

He hushed her, looking back around to see if anyone had heard her outburst. "Yes, married a year and a half and you dated him for two years before that."

"But...I don't KNOW him Mamoru? How can I...fake this?!"

He released her, coming to stand upright, looking at her thoughtfully. "I don't know, Rei. I'm sorry. If it helps, there are a LOT of things that Usa and I have in common with our past selves. So maybe Jed is similar to the Jadeite you use to be in love with?"

"Yeah, you could be right. But what about the things that are different?!"

He shrugged, "Guess? And use your talents. You are always able to feel people out, do it now!"

"...I don't know. I'm having trouble doing it with him…"

He chuckled, "That's because he is your past husband. You need to focus on something besides your attraction to him." She blushed brightly, looking around him to the man that was suddenly her husband. "I'll help you, okay? I will….catch up with him. Just pay attention, okay?"

She nodded, still not looking at him at all, and he laughed loudly, ruffling her hair. This got her attention and a squeal, swatting him for 'messing up her hair' but even with the sting of her slaps, he just laughed until a throat cleared behind him.

Turning, he felt the color drain from his face as Usagi stood, watching them. "Sorry to interrupt. But I thought I would help by setting the table."

She was eyeing them both carefully, a look he had never seen on her face before. It made his blood run cold.

"Yeah, sure, Usa. That would be great. Thank you."

She lifted her chin up high, going around them to the cabinet that held the flatware. It was good she knew her way around here; no way Rei did.

Dinner was quiet but pleasant. He managed to squeeze out some information out of Jed that was or wasn't helpful to Rei, he really wasn't sure. It was mostly work questions, that was the only subject he thought was safe for him to talk about with the man and not come off strange. Luckily, Usagi asked a few things like, "Remind me what you guys did for your first anniversary?" and, "Would you guys recommend Taiwan for a Honeymoon spot?" Although the last question bugged him to no end, her still considering marrying that asshat and going to Taiwan with him.

The sun had set long ago, floor lamps and a few candles lighting the room now. Their dessert plates still littered the table and Usagi stood, taking a few with her. He stood and helped her. She didn't say a word as she took them from his hands and he did his best to maintain contact with her fingers as they slipped over his. It wasn't much, but he was desperate for her touch.

The last of the dishes now rinsed and in the dishwasher, the two of them returned to find the dining room empty as well as the living room. Usagi let out a heavy sigh next to him.

"Ug, they always do this to me."

Glancing back around the room, he tried to see what she saw. "What are you talking about?"

She walked away, flopping down on the sofa. "Just wait."

He followed soon after her, sitting down in an armchair that faced her. "Usagi...I want to ask you…"

He stopped, a sound coming to his ears that had him straining to hear, to understand. But then when he realized just what he was hearing, he did all he could not to hear.

"Is that…"

"Yep."

Usagi sat back on the couch, pulling her legs up to cross before her. All while the sounds of Rei and Jed going at it in the bedroom filled the air.

"Wow."

"Yep."

He couldn't help but laugh. Apparently, even in this life, once put together, the two of them couldn't help themselves. It was strange. This world, this dream, was so intent on keeping him and Usako apart, yet it brought his dear friends together again. Why?

Pondering over the thought, he got lost for a minute.

"You can go, you know."

Shaking his mind, he found her staring at him with a glare on her face. "We need to talk first."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked away from him. "Okay, what do you want to talk about?"

"I want to talk about us…"

She laughed darkly, "There is no us."

"Okay, then I want to talk about you!"

She was just as stubborn in this world as she was in his. "What about me?!"

"You are not seriously still thinking about marrying that guy?!"

Her eyes bore into his, a huff coming from her lips as they frowned. "So what if I am?"

He jumped up, towering over her. "No, Usagi. Just no. I could let you go to someone who treats you right, that makes you happy. But not to him. Never to someone who treats you like shit!"

She jumped up too, craning her neck to look him in the face. "Who gave you any authority over me and my life?! You don't have any ownership over me. You don't need to 'let me go'!"

They glared at one another, neither of them backing down. So he did. "You're right," he sighed, sitting back down before her, "I don't have any say. I'm sorry. But you still shouldn't be with a guy like that!"

Remaining standing, he could feel her eyes as they bore down on the top of his head. "And just what kind of guy should I be with then?"

He dared to look up, her eyes on his instantly. "You should be with someone who loves you and respects you. Someone you can't live without, and they can't live without you. The kind of guy that will die for you, over and over again, happily, as long as he knows you will keep on. A guy who sees how strong you are and finds it mesmerizing, not something to control or take away. That finds your heart and your soul the most beautiful part of you…" she was still watching him, her mouth parting slightly at his words. So he continued. "Someone who gets lost in your eyes, wanting nothing more than to be the last thing they see every night and the first thing they see every morning. And thinks that your hair, long or short, is softer than lambswool. Wanting to tangle their hands in it as much as you will let them." Her face softened, the frown she had been wearing disappearing. She wasn't smiling, but she wasn't grimacing either. "And the kind of guy who lets you choose; who to be, who to love, and what you do with your life; only stepping in when it will cost you your life or soul."

The silence stretched out between them, or rather, if there were any other sounds, he couldn't hear them. All he could hear was her rushed breaths as they puffed in and out of her lungs. Holding her eyes, he refused to look anywhere else, and she seemed to be frozen. In fact, he was starting to think she was in shock.

"And that guy...is you, huh?"

"Yes, Usako, it is."

She fell onto him, into his lap while her mouth smothered his. Her arms went around his neck, pulling him even closer to her and he put his around her waist, holding her still. At first, her mouth just pressed to him, as if a forced act. But then she softened, parting her lips slightly to suck and nip at his. He responded to her, breaking down in his need to be close to her. She had been keeping him at a painful distance.

But something wasn't right.

When she began clawing at his clothes, he gently pushed her away. "Usa..stop."

"This is what you want, isn't it?"

His breath caught in his throat, looking in her eyes he found nothing. They were empty.

"No, this is not what I want."

"Then what is it you want, Mamoru."

"I want you!"

"Okay then."

She bent over, kissing him again and again until he pushed her away. "Not like this. Not while…"

Jumping off his lap, she distanced herself from him again. "While what? While Rei can come in any second now and see? I thought you would like that. Make her suffer, too."

"What? What are you talking about…"

"I'm not stupid, Mamoru! I see the way you two look at one another! It is just as it has always been! You just want to use me to get to Rei!"

Her voice was cracking as she spoke while all he could do was stare at her. Tears fell down her cheeks again. He could see them even as she stared at the floor, refusing to look at him.

"Is that what you think? What you've always thought? I have and always will be in love with you!" She turned away from him, but he grabbed her hand and spun her back. "How could you even think that? After everything I've said, all that I've done…"

"All you have said was a bunch of pretty words and all you have done is used me to get closer to Rei again! And when it doesn't work, again, I will be the one left alone and heartbroken. Just like all those years ago when you ran away to America!"

He stood, grabbing her shoulders before she could run off like he knew she was planning to do. She still kept her eyes to the floor though, not looking at him, either out of disgust for him or herself.

"I have never used you. Not to get to Rei, not for anything! I ran away because I was a stupid, scared, little boy who didn't appreciate what I had!"

Shrugging out of his hold she moved away from him towards the dark hallway. "That's all you have ever done, Mamoru. Use me. And I refuse to let you or anyone do it anymore!"

She was reaching, fishing for anything she could to push him away. Because, be it fear or the dream world, she was afraid of him. Of getting close to him. Now she had latched on to a few confused moments with Rei to use against him.

He heard the door slam, her last act after disappearing off into the lightless hall. It would appear that things had gotten both better and worse. And he was really starting to fear that they would be locked in this world forever.

oOo

His back was killing him. Even though Rei and Jed's couch looked comfortable, it was a smokescreen. He planned to catch Usagi before she left that morning, but in his restless "not sleeping," he had exhausted himself at dawn and drifted off. It was almost noon when he woke to an empty apartment.

Usagi wasn't at her house, which was a relief, or at her parents' house. He finally spotted her turning into the arcade, her uniform neatly pressed and perfectly placed. She must have gone to Makoto's.

Planning on following her in, he stopped at the sight of blood red hair tailing not so far behind her. So now he was running, a sick feeling running up and down his spine.

He managed to grab the redhead just as she was about to walk through the glass doors, pulling her back out onto the sidewalk.

"Beryl, what are you doing here?"

She threw her hands up in the air, palms facing him in defense. "I just wanted to talk with her."

He released his hold on her arms, stepping back and shaking his head. "Look, Beryl. I don't love you. I'm sorry, but that is the truth. I should have told you a long time ago, and I am most sorry for leading you on for so long. I could never love you because I love someone else. Always have, always will."

Silent tears slid down her cheeks. But she nodded, looking down at his feet.

Beryl walked away, heading back the way she came, so he continued searching out Usagi.

It took him less than a second to find her, the raised voices drawing his attention immediately. Usagi looked as if she had been in the middle of doing her job when Seiya, who was probably waiting for her because no way he missed him coming in behind Usa, had a stronghold of her arm, bruising her for sure.

This entire time, he had been doing his best to control his anger, to not use violence at all in this world since he lost most of his power to protect himself. But his fist still worked just fine.

Seiya was still yelling, starting to shake Usagi who tried in vain to rip her arm away from his hold. "What do you mean we are over?! You can't leave me!"

He silenced the prick with his fist to Seiya's left eye, a resounding pop as their bones connected echoed off the now silent arcade. Usagi gasped but was now free to move as far away from the two of them as she could without leaving them completely alone. Seiya was still on the floor. It only registered to him then that he was in his police uniform, making everything look a lot worse. But he would have to worry about that later, rushing over to Usagi's side to inspect her and her arm.

"Did he hurt you? Are you alright?"

She only nodded, her terrified eyes going from the lump of a man on the floor to his. "You should get out of here. When he comes to…"

"I don't give a damn, Usagi. I am not leaving you here with him."

She stared at him a moment longer before starting to push them both towards the door. "Then I will go with you."

Turning slightly, he grabbed her hand, pulling her along. The arcade doors opened in front of them before they could reach them and Beryl walked in. The first thing he noticed was the wild look in her eyes and the tears that still stained her cheeks. The second thing he noticed, and what should have been the first, was the small pistol clutched in her hand.

Going on instinct, he shoved Usagi down, practically knocking her to the floor. But he wanted her out of sight. She disappeared behind a row of booths, her butt hitting the floor as she fell when Beryl's eyes found him.

"Where is she?" Her seemingly calm demeanor evaporated when he remained silent. "Where IS SHE?!"

"She's gone! She isn't here, Beryl."

"Bull shit! I saw her here! I saw her come in."

He nodded, not taking his eyes off of her. "She just left."

The gun she held went up, pointing straight at him. "Where did she go?"

For some strange reason, the barrel that now stared him right in the face did not scare him in the least. Maybe it was dying so many times now. Or knowing more painful and frightening things in this world other than a gun. Either way, it was helping him to keep his cool, which was really needed at the moment.

"I don't know."

"LIAR!"

He didn't dare glance at where he sincerely hoped Usagi's prone body still sat on the floor. He just had to hope she was still there and not doing something stupid.

"Come on, Beryl. Put the gun down." She shook her head, placing her other hand upon the weapon to steady it further. "You don't want to hurt anyone."

"You're right, Mamoru. I don't want to hurt anyone. I want to kill someone. I want to kill Tsukino Usagi. Now somebody, tell me where she is, or I start firing."

Damnit. He knew that with the threat of other lives Usako would hand herself over….

"I'm right here."

DAMNIT! Could she be any more frustrating?!

"Usagi, don't."

"Shut up, Mamoru. It's too late to save her."

Beryl's gun moved from him to his right as Usagi came to stand next to him. "Here I am, Beryl. Now, please. Don't hurt anyone."

A sneer formed on Beryl's face and her pistol started to shake, looking Usa up and down. "What's so great about you, huh? I don't see anything special about you!"

He took a step forward, hoping to get the gun aimed at him again. "Nothing. There is nothing special about her."

"Oh yeah?" Both the gun and Beryl's bloodshot eyes stayed glued to Usagi. "Then why did you chose her over me?"

"It wasn't a choice, Beryl!"

She shook her head again, shifting her weight around on her feet while refusing to look at anything or anyone other than Usagi. "Not a choice? Please! You chose to love her over me! And if you really loved her all your life, then that means you chose to lead me on for years!"

"You're right Beryl, it is all my fault. I made those choices. So why don't you put the gun on me? Shoot me, not her!"

Beryl started to giggle, and a sweat broke out on his forehead and palms. "No, I think your punishment should be much worse than death. If I have to live without the one I love, then so should you."

He heard the pops, the strange sound deafening especially in a small space. But his body moved on its own, jumping in front of Usagi and knocking her down again just as two bullets pierced his chest. Everything went numb after that, the pain overloading his system and causing it to shut down in protection. He knew he was on the ground, only because the ceiling was the only thing he could see. That is, until his angel crouched over him, tears brimming in her eyes. She was crying for him. He wanted to reassure her, but he had died enough times to know what it felt like. And that he was without a doubt dying now.

She was pressing her hands to his wounds, but he couldn't feel much save for the small pressure. He reached for it, grabbing her hand and removing the first one he found and brought it to his lips, pressing a small kiss against it. Her sobs filled his ears, now the only sound he heard.

He silently begged her to look at him, knowing he didn't have the energy or breath to waste. When she looked at him, he found her tears shimmering in her eyes, the light inside them so bright, it nearly took his remaining breath away.

"Don't let her...get you…"

She shook her head quickly, "Seiya…"

Stopping, not having the breath to finish, he understood in an instant. At least having him around was good for something.

"Usako...I love you…."

She started to choke, her sobs overwhelming her, but she quickly recovered. Taking the hand that held hers, she pulled it to her lips and caressed his knuckles.

"You do, don't you."

More sobs choked out while he chuckled, managing to get a few out before choking himself. "I told you, I would die for you."

She collapsed on him, grabbing his shoulders and shaking all over. "You love me….you do….."

He wrapped his free hand around her, reaching up to stroke her hair. "And you...love me."

Things were starting to go black, his lifeblood covering the floor around them. It wouldn't be long now.

"Usako...say it….please…"

She nodded into his chest, sitting back up to look at him as she spoke. "I love you, Mamo-chan."

"All...all my life…."

Nodding again as she spoke, her face was scrunched up from her pain. "And I loved you...all my life…"

Her lips found his, and he wished he could feel it more, respond to her the way she deserved. Over and over again, she kissed him; his mouth his cheeks, his chin, and his forehead, as if he were a child and she could kiss the pain away. However, he wasn't a child, and this wasn't a small "boo-boo."

She grabbed his face in both her hands, looking him square in the eyes. They were beautiful, shining so bright it was almost blinding. "I'm sorry, Mamo-chan...I'm so sorry…" he tried to hush her, but she continued on, "I should have believed you sooner. Ended this nightmare before….before…"

"Night...mare?"

She nodded again, quickly placing a kiss on the tip of his nose. "Mamo-chan, where are we? How did we get here?"

He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. "You're awake."

"Yes...yes, I'm awake. How do I save you?"

Her tears dripped off her face, leaving salt lines across his. "It doesn't matter. You're free. You can get out of here."

"No, not without you!"

"Your friends….you have to…."

He was struggling to breathe and to form words. The darkness was closing in on him. It was like being underwater, that moment right before death, everything fades away. Even sound starts to echo around in nothing.

Mamoru could hear her voice, hear her calling out to him. But it all drifted away. He begged his mouth to move, using his last breath to tell her he loved her one last time.

Just as the darkness enveloped him, everything shifted. Pure, white light built slowly, warm and inviting at first, but then turning strong and painful.

Blinking it away did nothing at first. Then it started to fade, images coming into view.

He was in a room. It was stark, tall towers standing all around with small bright colored lights flashing in some kind of rhythm all over them. Wires spanned out from them, running across the floor and his eyes followed them to their end…..finding 12 tables with 12 bodies on them.

The one next to him was Rei. A sheet covering most of her, he could still see wires and tubes coming out of her. Next to her was...Jadeite….

He looked as far as he could see, something holding him down and keeping him from sitting up. Minako, Kunzite, Ami, Zoicite, Makoto, Nephrite, Setsuna, Haruka, Hotaru, and Micharu….they got them all. Whoever they were, they had them all connected to this...machine. And, somehow, even his old Shitennou were there.

"Mamo-chan…"

Her soft whisper was so small and scared, but he heard it, whipping his head to the other side to find her strapped down just like the others. "Usako!"

Tears were streaming down her face, but she smiled at him. "You're alive…"

He looked down at himself, finding his bullet holes missing and, in their place, a multitude of straps and tubes.

"Mamo-chan….what's going on?"

He looked back at her, glancing behind her for a second before quickly returning to her and hoping she didn't notice. "I don't know."

But she did notice, twisting and turning even through the pain until she saw what he did. Artemis and Luna, floating in tubes of a green liquid.

A gasp strangled and died in her throat as a sob overtook it. "No!"

Hands gripped his head from behind, forcing him to look forward. "Get your hands off of me!"

"Mamo-chan!"

She was scared, screaming at whatever she saw that he could not. "It's okay, Usako. It will all be okay."

He heard things twisting and popping just behind his head and a dark chuckle from his captor right before it let go of him. Grey fuzz circled his vision, closing in as reality began to slip away yet again.

"Usako! I will find you. No matter what, I will find you and free you from whatever dream they put us in. I promise!"

"Mamo-chan!"

It all became static and silence….


	2. Chapter 2: Wonderland Pt 1

Wonderland

Ninjette Twitch and Beej88

~*~v~*~

Mamoru's eyes popped open. He blinked repeatedly and looked around to find himself in a completely black room; the walls, ceiling and floor all painted black. He was disoriented, swaying slightly as he attempted to clear his head. The first thing that became apparent to him as he adjusted to his strange newfound bearings was the - _severely constricting_ \- outfit that he was wearing. _What the hell?_

He was used to wearing uncomfortable formal wear, (he was Tuxedo Kamen, after all,) but this was just ridiculous. He was dressed in uncomfortable skinny jeans. Except that instead of the traditional denim colored blue, they were dyed a very deep navy blue. Tucked into said jeans was a short-sleeved, cerulean blue-hued button up shirt. He grimaced as his hands gingerly reached up to the collared neck where there was most definitely a bow tie. What really completed this ridiculous outfit though, were the two white suspenders clipped to his jeans. He hooked his thumbs around them, pulling forward to test their elasticity, frowning as they snapped back into place. What was the point of suspenders, anyway? He was wearing jeans. What the hell was the purpose?

His eyes had completely adjusted to the darkness, and with a sigh of frustration, he raked a hand through his hair. _Where the hell was he now?_ The brief flashes of a horrified Usako in an equally terrifying lab room flashed through his mind, and he gritted his teeth in disgust. He hadn't managed to escape _anything_ , and he knew, without a doubt, that this was another nightmare.

He needed to find Usagi again, and Rei. But first, he needed to figure out where the hell he was. With determined resolve, he took a step forward and let his eyes scan the blackened room for some kind of clue.

In the middle of the room sat a simple polished oak-stained, wooden pedestal table, upon which was a small vile of liquid. Against the far wall, a miniature door opened to an unknown area. He frowned and stepped closer to examine it. The door came up to mid-calf, pure white and wooden. His frown deepened in confusion as he looked down at the doorway and contemplated its size. _Who would use a door this small?_

He spun, his movements frantic now, as his gaze searched the room he was trapped in with rising alarm. There were no other entryways; no holes. How had he even gotten into this room?! There _had_ to be a way to get out of here, so he turned back to the door and crouched down, to give it a better look. His eyes widened as he carefully inspected the handle.

He blinked twice and had to fight the urge to rub his eyes because what he was looking at couldn't _possibly_ be real. The handle - _if you could really call it a handle-_ was etched with two big blue eyes that opened, quite alarmingly, to peer up at him. It was covered in soft white fur with a little pink nose that wiggled with whiskers that swayed with the movement. _The handle was most definitely a cat,_ and he recoiled slightly as its small mouth smiled up at him, it's tail curled underneath its face to imitate the door handles latch.

Mamoru's eyes widened and filled with confused wonder as he scrutinized the cat-like doorknob. It looked like… but it couldn't _possibly_ be... "Artemis?" he whispered, choking slightly on the word. What the hell kind of world _was this?_

"Artemis!" Mamoru gasped, and sprang backwards in horror, bracing himself on his forearms as he fell, with jarring impact, onto the unforgiving stone floor. He cringed as the doorknob spoke, and Mamoru's eyes widened, like round cobalt-blue saucers filled with disbelief.

"I'm a doorknob! Can't you see that?" The talking Artemis door knob snapped, and Mamoru practically choked because he was, admittedly, having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that a door handle was currently _mocking_ him. This dream was apparently not going to be like the other one, and the sooner he came to terms with the fact that things were going to be really strange, the sooner he could find Usagi and get the hell out of here. _Where was Usako?_ He looked around once more, just in case, before exhaling with resigned defeat and turning back to the small door.

"Where am I?" He demanded, and his tone was laced with the fear that was rising in his throat. He needed to know what he was facing and figure out _where_ the disembodied monsters, whoever the hell they were, had put them this time.

"You're in Wonderland, boy!" The doorknob bellowed, and it sounded exactly like the white-furred feline that Minako carried with her everywhere.

"Wonderland?" Mamoru whispered, then audibly groaned as it clicked and images of the fantastical world flashed through his mind in horrifying sequence. _Damn._ He'd seen those movies plenty of times; many different versions. The storyline made his heart race and his palms sweat. From what he could remember, Wonderland was a land full of strange creatures, run by a queen who ruled with an iron fist. There was _no_ way Usagi was safe here. _He had to find her!_

"Artem….doorknob! Where's Usagi?" He demanded harshly, as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, then fell forward onto his hands and knees. Moving closer to the door as he spoke.

"Usagi? I don't know an Usagi. Although, I don't really know anyone. I'm a doorknob," he laughed as though he'd just told the funniest joke.

Mamoru huffed in annoyance, gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw as he reached out tentatively with his hand. This was strange, and he felt uncomfortable doing it, it _was_ Artemis, after all, but he grasped the door handle, twisted and pulled the door open. He forced himself to ignore the cat's muffled protest as he crouched as far down to the ground as he could, and peered through the tiny opening.

It definitely looked like what he remembered; lush green bushes, tall trees and flowers of every shape and color. It was a gleaming, beautiful landscape that shone brightly in the sun. There was a notable difference this time, however, and that was his Usako standing in the middle of this lustrous scene, enshrouded in the light of the sun. His breath caught in his throat and relief swept through him at the sight of her. _At least he didn't have to go far._ It took a moment before her appearance or more accurately, what she was wearing, registered in his mind.

Her outfit was eccentric, a mixture of fabrics that was strange and oddly alluring. He was used to seeing her endlessly long legs clad in red leather boots and the impossibly short skirt of her sailor fuku, but this was something else altogether. She wore a cream-coloured, short capped-sleeved dress that, just like her fuku, stopped mid-thigh. It was lacy, layered and ruffled, small white-polished beads interlaced delicately in the material that shimmered slightly every time she moved. A red leather, sleeveless doublet jacket, with slightly raised embossing, buttoned up and contoured her body tightly. It cinched at her waist, stopping, except for the coattails that encased and highlighted the curve of her hips.

The strangely enticing ensemble was completed by a silky black scarf, flower-patterned, tied daintily around the slender curve of her neck and white knee-high socks and white mary-jane shoes that made him visibly swallow and his heart palpitate.

 _Dear God. She was beautiful._

"Usako!" he called out desperately, his voice projecting over the small door's threshold.

He was reasonably sure that she hadn't heard him as she seemed too focused, her gaze fixed on what appeared to be a watch. Her slender finger tapped it gently and the golden arches of her brow furrowed as she held it up to her ear, as if checking to see if it worked. He was forced to watch in dismay as her big beautiful sapphire-blue eyes widened and, with a quick twist of her lithe form and a flurry of white fabric, she bounded off into the other direction. Darting into the trees and disappearing out of sight.

"No! Usako!" He cried hoarsely, slammed a fist into the stone floor in frustration, and murmured an involuntary expletive under his breath. It was too late. She was gone.

He quickly sat back onto his heels, cursing loudly this time, before leveraging the blackened wall to stand. He exhaled a breath of irritation, pushed away from the wall and its ridiculously small doorway, to pace the room. The panic was building with his inability to _get to her_ , and it felt like he was a caged animal.

He stopped, took a deep cleansing breath and ran a hand through his hair. "How the _hell_ do I get to _her_?" he growled to himself, his muttered words echoing around him.

"Well, I _am_ a door…"

The statement, snapped in a snide and derivative manner _that he did not appreciate,_ had come from the Artemis door.

Mamoru's gaze snapped back to the cat handle, and he chuckled angrily. "Yeah, a door that doesn't even come up to my knees! There's no way I can fit through you. It's impossible," he retorted darkly, a mixture of anger, desperation and frustration building in the pit of his stomach. Why the hell was this happening to him? What was the purpose of locking him in _Wonderland,_ of all places, and separating him from Usagi?

"Nothing is impossible," Artemis replied his tone that had previously been filled with mocking censure had turned serious. Mamoru stopped pacing. His breath hitched in his throat as his eyes fixed curiously on the white wooden entrance and the furred handle that was honestly disconcerting to look at. He noted that Artemis' almond-shaped eyes were looking past him and he followed his line of sight to the pedestal table that still sat in the middle of the room.

Suddenly, Mamoru felt incredibly stupid. He closed his eyes for a moment, exasperated and irritated with himself. He'd seen Wonderland many times, which was where he was currently trapped, apparently. _Why hadn't he thought of it sooner?_ He'd been so wrapped up in his need to get to Usagi, he'd completely disregarded the table...the same table where a small vile, filled with a clear liquid, currently sat. He grimaced with dread. He _knew_ what the liquid in that vile would do to him. He couldn't _believe_ that he was going to have to go through Wonderland, and the thought instantly filled him with indignant outrage.

His gaze snapped back to the door and his grimace melted into an irritated sneer. "You couldn't have reminded me about that in the beginning?"

"Oh, come, come now. Crying about it won't help," Doorknob-Artemis chuckled brightly, and Mamoru rolled his eyes in disbelief.

He fixed his gaze onto the table, sighed and internally resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to do this. Once he'd made the decision, he strode to the table and scooped the vile up into his hand. He turned it over in his palm, and carefully scrutinized the words. ' _Drink Me'_ was etched forebodingly into the dark glass. He gave the door one more cautious glance before taking a deep breath and pouring the contents into his mouth, swallowing it quickly. It tasted sweet, with a tangy aftertaste.

He licked his lips before setting the bottle back down on the table. He knew what was _supposed_ to happen, but as the seconds ticked by with no change, he turned back to the door, tapping his foot with undisguised impatience.

"Nothing is happening," he snapped with an irritated scowl and a frown furrowed onto his brow.

The Artemis door-handle simply rolled his eyes, "So impatient," he murmured scathingly, and Mamoru's eyes narrowed indignantly. The Artemis of this world, usually Minako's voice of reason, was decidedly _annoying,_ and he would have preferred if the handle had been inanimate - _like a door handle was supposed to be-_ rather than currently prodding him into losing his temper.

With all the frustration and irritation that the unfairness of this situation elicited, he glared at the cat. "Of course I'm impatient! Usako is out there and I-" He stopped suddenly as he realized that the door was getting bigger. Or... _was it getting bigger?_ He looked down, swaying dizzily as the floor suddenly began to approach him at an alarmingly fast rate. Dammit, _it had worked._ The door wasn't getting bigger, and his body was most definitely shrinking.

He wobbled, feeling slightly nauseated as the tabletop flew above him, growing impossibly large as he became smaller and made a quick descent downwards. His heart lodged into his throat as his body adjusted, and it felt like he was rapidly falling from immeasurable heights onto the ground. The sensation stopped abruptly and, once the dizzy feeling passed, he whipped his head back towards the door. He was now the perfect size to go through it.

His breathing quickened, and the anxiety began to build in the cavity of his chest as he took a tentative step towards the door. He inhaled deeply, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to walk into. He was grateful that he had knowledge of Wonderland, at least, but there was no telling what other things had been conjured into this world. _He needed to find Usako._ He knew, just like in the last nightmare, that finding her was the key to rescuing them.

He swallowed around the lump of terror that lodged into his throat at the thought. At least in the last nightmare, things had made sense. It hadn't been some unrealistic design like this one, and he hadn't been expected to wade through a terrifying world based on a book whose author had probably written the tale while under the influence of hallucinogens. He didn't know if the things in these dreams could fatally harm them, but he remembered the dangers that were in Wonderland, and it wasn't worth the risk. He just had to find her _…_ _and fast_.

As he reached the door, the white cat's lips curled into a wide grin. "It's about time you got down here," he exclaimed jovially. "Welcome to Wonderland."

Mamoru took a deep breath, reached out and firmly grasped the white door handle. He twisted it and, with an abrupt movement, pulled the door open.

He stepped into the new world, and though it was terrifying, he still couldn't help but marvel at the detailed landscape. It was so _real;_ a vast array of vibrant colors and lush foliage. It was almost too much to take in as his eyes darted between the different types of trees, bushes, and foreign flowers. This world was bright and colorful, almost blinding in its brilliance, and he quietly admitted to himself that the movie had not done this place justice… _or_ the monsters that were responsible for creating it had some pretty wild imaginations. The thought made him scowl.

Mamoru shook his head, determined not to get distracted again, as his eyes scanned his surroundings in search of his beautiful Usako. He tried to determine where he'd seen her last and which direction she might have gone in. He bit the inside of his lip as he considered his options, made a quick decision based on what he remembered, and then headed in the direction he was sure he'd seen her go.

He hoped she hadn't gotten too far, as he waded through the thick vegetation and squinted up into the canopy of strange leaves that loomed over him. He was startled, once or twice, by insects that he should have been able to crush. Instead, he shuddered and did his best to avoid them as they were now not much smaller than he was.

He was beginning to feel ridiculous, and he couldn't imagine that he was going to cover much ground at this size. _What was it that Alice had done again to get back to her regular height?_ He racked his brain, trying to remember the various scenes from the book he'd read and the movie he'd watched in his youth for an inkling of where it was that he needed to go next.

He huffed, inwardly cursing as he waded through a river of moss and into a forest of long-stemmed plants that he probably could have easily plucked, but that currently towered over him. The strange canopy of yellowed leaves above him thickened and bathed him in darkness that made it difficult to see. _Great. Just Great._

He was forcibly trudging along, conjuring an image of Usagi in his mind to give him strength, when something shifted in the air.

He wasn't sure what it was at first, but it sent shivers down his spine and lifted the hairs on the nape of his neck. There wasn't much light down here on the ground, so naturally, it would feel much colder than what it would have been had he been allowed to continue on at his regular height, but he was sure he felt the temperature drop a degree. He shivered as he halted in his tracks and, with narrowed eyes, let his gaze peruse the shadowed crevices in his immediate vicinity.

His eyes widened, and his breath hitched in his throat as two figures materialized suddenly from the darkness behind a bent, twisted stem, in front of him. He'd wondered briefly if the generals appearing in that first nightmare had been a fluke. Just a by-product of the conjured illusions that were weaved so tightly into these nightmares; but he was wrong. It was very clearly Kunzite and Zoisite that appeared so suddenly in front of him, with crossed arms, a hardened glint in their eyes and a sly half-smile curled onto their lips.

Their movements were eerily synchronized, and they did not look like any character that he remembered from Alice. Both of them, long hair - silver and tawny brown- tied back, donning identical black pin-striped suits that gave them an expensive, suave air that churned around them in droves. The only noticeable difference in their outfits - the color of their silk neckties; Kunzite in gold and Zoisite sporting lapis blue. He inwardly rolled his eyes, giving silent props to the disembodied monsters and creators of this world, for their rigorous attention to detail.

The pair halted in front of him, identical wry half-smiles on their lips, and dark amusement glinting in their eyes. It was unsettling, and he automatically took a step back. His muscles coiled tensely, as warning bells were internally triggered by the strange unknown versions of his generals.

He clenched his hands into fists, prepared to protect himself should he have to, as his gaze bounced from one General's face to the other. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?" He demanded, his tone emanating confidence he wasn't entirely sure he felt. _He didn't have time for this._

Zoisite chuckled darkly, as he clasped his hands behind his back and leaned forward, his grin widening ominously across his face. "Why, brother! This visitor doesn't know who we are!" he exclaimed with clearly contrived disbelief as he glanced slyly over at Kunzite whose steely gaze remained fixed firmly onto Mamoru. "Isn't it obvious, visitor?" Zoisite whispered impishly, and Mamoru stepped back in tandem with the step he took towards him.

Mamoru's caution only served to amuse the tawny-haired General because he chortled loudly before continuing. "Why, this is my brother Tweedle-Dee, and me? Well, I'm Tweedle-Dum," he stated with a tone of dark merriment that made him frown.

 _The Tweedles?_ He hadn't been entirely sure how his friends would have been woven into the strange nightmare that was Wonderland, and he was admittedly a bit surprised that they were going to actually be characters in the storyline, though he probably should have expected it.

So, if he was correct, and judging by Zoisite's introduction, he should be able to determine where he was in this ridiculous world. The revelation didn't serve to offer him any comfort though because he specifically remembered the Wonderland Tweedle brothers as confusing, bumbling idiots in gaudy red and yellow outfits. The suave, dark and slightly menacing generals did not resemble the original Tweedles, and it made him wonder what other liberties had been taken while creating Wonderland characters out of his friends.

"Do not be fooled by the light nature of our names, visitor," Kunzite warned, his tone calm and filled with a steady coolness that sent shivers down his spine. Of the two, Kunzite was the more terrifying. "We can be quite dangerous," he said with a tilt of his silver-haired head.

The tension crackled around them, and Mamoru was carefully considering his next move when Zoisite chuckled loudly. "Of course, _you_ don't have to worry! Why don't you stay for a while? We like visitors!" he said with a jovial bounce in his step, as the warm brown hues of his eyes locked onto his, and Mamoru suddenly felt like he was frozen.

His limbs felt like they were getting heavy, weighed down and immovable as Kunzite stepped towards him and locked the arctic-blue of _his_ gaze onto him, too. "Yes, stay," he whispered, sweeping his hand back, gesturing towards the darkened forest behind him. "Do you see these trees? They were once visitors, too. They're happy now. Don't you want to be happy too?" He murmured, the baritone of his voice oddly inviting.

Mamoru blinked in confusion, his body utterly numb as a strange, dizzying haze took over his senses. _What the hell?_ He couldn't move, and what was even stranger was that he _didn't want to._ The trees _did_ look happy, didn't they? Why couldn't _he_ stay too?

He was feeling sluggish, all of a sudden, and wondered if maybe he leaned up against one of the oddly twisted stems, he might get some rest. It would feel nice, _wouldn't it_?

He was beginning to fade, the dark Tweedles laughter dimly piercing his senses, when an image of Usagi flashed through his mind. _Usako_. He needed to save her. The thought sobered him and, with a firm shake of his head to clear the cloying haze, he snapped out of it.

The Tweedles expressions darkened as they noted that whatever the hell they'd been trying to do wasn't going to work, which was clearly evident by the withering glare he shot them. "I don't have time for this," he snapped, flexing the feeling back into his legs, before furiously stepping around them. "I need to find Usagi," he said, though the statement was more for himself; a loudly spoken reminder that his number one priority was to find her.

He was striding away, with no intention of looking back, when Zoisite spoke. "Oh! What a shame, brother. The visitor doesn't want to stay! He's curious! Curious about the Queen's rabbit, it would seem," he proclaimed, and Mamoru skidded to a stop.

 _The Queen's rabbit?_ An image of her strange outfit, the hurried expression on her face as she'd bounded away after looking at… _her watch._ His face blanched and he inwardly cursed. Usagi was the damned rabbit. The one that Alice had chased through Wonderland. Or that _he_ was now chasing through Wonderland, apparently.

With a groan of irritation, Mamoru swivelled back around toward the Generals whose backs were facing him, though he noticed that Zoisite threw him an amused, _knowing_ , look over his shoulder.

"Ah! Well, you know the oysters were curious, too! And you know what happened to the oysters!" Kunzite replied, leaning conspiratorially towards his tawny-haired counterpart.

Mamoru rolled his eyes because he remembered this part of the story, and he was not interested in hearing it. "I don't care about the oysters. I want to know more about the rabbit," he demanded, and, in one simultaneous motion, the brothers smoothly twisted their bodies to face him, with identical smirks on their faces.

Kunzite chuckled, "The rabbit? The rabbit is always late, isn't she, brother?" He whispered menacingly, and the tone in his voice filled Mamoru with dread.

Zoisite's grin melted into a sneer, and his eyes glinted dangerously as he regarded him. "Oh, yes. This time, the black-haired Queen will have her head for sure," he sniggered, his eyes glinting with humor.

Mamoru's breath quickened at Zoisite's harsh words, and his mind began to race, quickly flitting through the multitude of possibilities. If his friends were the characters in Alice in Wonderland, then there was only one black-haired woman that he knew that could be the Queen of Hearts. And that was Rei.

The Senshi of fire had been his only ally in the previous dream, so she was more than likely awake here too. If Usagi was the rabbit and the rabbit worked for the Queen, then his only logical next step was to find Rei so they could locate Usagi together.

His urgency and his elation at having a plan of action spurned him forward, and he twisted back around to make his way through the strange Tweedle forest. "Guess the visitor has to go, brother," Kunzite's deep baritone drifted through the air and echoed around him as he weaved his way through the stems and away from them. "Enjoy your rabbit stew!" He called out and the words, for some reason, settled in his chest like a piece of lead.

oOo

He was getting irritated, his frustration building as he blindly stumbled around looking for his bunny-clad Moon princess. He was slowly beginning to despair when he practically fell, tripping through the exotic foliage, into a clearing. He vaguely remembered this setting from the ridiculous wonderland versions that he'd seen over the years, and judging by the fact that he was standing in a field of abnormally large multi-coloured mushrooms, he knew that this is where he would encounter the caterpillar. What he did _not_ expect, however, was the person that had been picked to play the hookah-smoking insect. Of all the people that could have been forced into this role, Ami was the least likely candidate. However, that was _exactly_ who he encountered perched on top of a billowed red mushroom cap, and it took a moment for his mind to wrap around what he was looking at.

The Senshi of intelligence was usually seen in blue. Even her hair, kept cropped short, was a demure shade of lapis that genuinely suited the modest girl, whose calm and cool intellect had often saved them in battle and served to offer a sound mind to his adorable, but sometimes not-so-logical, Moon Senshi. Which was why it was so alarming to see her now...

Though nothing was revealing about her outfit, it was still unnerving to see the way that she was dressed. Her hair was longer, the silky locks feathered and cascaded well past her shoulders. It was a disconcerting shade of blue, a fluorescent cyan with black feathers intermittently braided into the strands. Her top, a shimmery fabric that was the same colour as her hair, was covered by a pashmina in a vibrant Persian blue colour. The fabric, edged in gold trimming was cinched to her waist with a wide, sturdy looking, black leather belt. Her skirt, the same colour as the pashmina fell modestly above her knees, flowing around legs encased in black and blue striped stockings.

Her face was heavily covered in makeup with strange swirling designs etched into her skin. He was briefly contemplating whether or not the designs were tattooed above the curves of her cheek, rather than just painted on, when he finally took note of the horrified expression in wide, aquamarine-colored eyes.

Her gaze fixed firmly onto his and it was filled with terror, alarmed and brimming with shock. He inhaled sharply, as he _recognized_ that look. It was the same one he'd sported on _his own_ face the moment he'd first realized that he'd helplessly been thrust into an alternate reality where he was the only one who knew that this world was utterly false. His heart skipped a beat in excited anticipation; could that possibly mean that Ami was _awake too?_

He took a tentative step toward her, cautiously approaching her mushroomed- perch with his heart pounding furiously against his ribcage. Was it possible that there could be _two_ of the Senshi awakened? He carefully scrutinized her expression, hardly _daring_ to let himself begin to hope when …. She visibly recoiled, shrinking away from him, a very clear aura of fear emanating from every inch of her body.

He inhaled sharply, as he halted his movements to avoid startling her. "Ami?" he asked timidly, his tone laced with a silent question, and his breathing quickening with the possibility that he might _actually_ have another ally. He could have wept with grateful exhilaration when her eyes widened, a mixture of shock and relief etched onto the contours of her face as she realized that he was awake, _too_.

"Mamoru!"

In a flash, with a strangled sounding whimper that spilled from her lips, she jumped down from her mushroom podium. She was a flurry of blue as she gracefully barreled into him. He grunted at the unexpected impact of her embrace as her slender arms coiled around him. She squeezed tightly as if she was afraid that he would disappear if she let him go.

He tensed for a moment, as he'd never witnessed this kind of affection from the always calm and collected bluenette. When the surprise wore off, he smiled softly as the tension melted away and he gently reciprocated her hug. He understood, more than anyone, the emotions that were currently washing over her. He remembered all too well the terror and helpless feelings that he'd felt the first time he'd opened his eyes and realized that his world had been viciously ripped away from him and replaced with a false reality.

He'd had the luxury of waking up in something that made _sense_ at least. Ami had opened her eyes to Wonderland, dressed like a gaudy blue caterpillar. She must have been _terrified_ , not knowing what was going on or where she was.

He tightened his arms around her and took a deep cleansing breath as he allowed himself just a moment to savor the comfort from a friend that was equally as afraid as he was before he steeled his resolve and immersed himself back into the crazy, contrived world of Wonderland.

The bluenette tensed suddenly and abruptly pulled away, blushing, a red tinge spreading across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose as she straightened her dress and cleared her throat with embarrassment.

Mamoru offered her a reassuring smile to comfort her, but it only served to deepen the shade of red on her cheeks as she shifted uncomfortably.

She frowned, and her eyes narrowed as she took note of their surroundings. "Mamoru...where are we?" she asked, her voice breaking slightly as she attempted to keep the hysteria at bay. He watched her gaze carefully scrutinize everything around them before her eyes fell back onto him. She visibly shuddered as the aquamarine-hues of her eyes swept down the length of his body, carefully perusing his outfit. "And _what_ are we _wearing_?"

Mamoru sighed, and lifted a hand to scratch the back of his neck nervously before he tentatively gestured to a pair of oddly shaped, purple-tinged mushrooms; a silent invitation for the Senshi of intelligence to sit down. _She was going to need to be sitting down to hear this._

He watched the terror in her eyes melt away, to be replaced with cool contemplation as she nodded curtly and, with a wary expression, moved to sit across from him. She carefully folded her hands into the folds of her vibrant colored skirt, demurely crossed her ankles and took a deep cleansing breath, clearly preparing herself for whatever it was that he had to say.

He exhaled deeply, feeling oddly deflated, as he soundlessly opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, finding it almost impossible to summon the _right_ words to explain this to her.

She offered him a small comforting smile with a slight nod of her head that gently invited him to begin. He sighed softly. Why was he so nervous? _This was Ami_. He knew the best course of action would be to describe everything to her in detail. Ami was extremely analytical, and if _anyone_ had any idea about what their next course of action should be, it was her.

Mamoru took a deep breath, and once he started talking, he found it difficult to stop. He recounted the events of the last dream and everything he'd been through so far in this one. Ami listened quietly as she took in all of the information, and Mamoru could see the wheels slowly turning in her head. He could practically hear the cogs of her mind clicking into place as she considered all of his words.

When he was finished, they both sat in silence for a couple of minutes. His heart began to race anxiously as he waited, with bated breath for her reaction to everything he'd just explained as it slowly and logically registered for her.

She was chewing on her lower lip in quiet deliberation, her gaze seemingly unfocused as he wordlessly watched her sift through his explanation. "So...Rei was awake in the last dream?" she asked finally, her words thoughtfully spoken.

He nodded quickly. "Right. So there are two of you that are awake now," he replied, and he couldn't help the eager anticipation that crept into his tone. He was extremely grateful that the most logical of Usagi's Senshi was on his side this time. God knew he could use some intelligence amidst the insanity of this nightmare.

Her eyes narrowed furtively, unconvinced, it would seem, that there was someone that would have purposely done this to them. "Did you get a look at the enemy?" She asked softly, her eyes finally fixing onto his face as she studied his expression.

He shook his head and crossed his arms. "No. Usagi did, but they got me from behind…" he murmured, and grimaced as the memory deflated him. Ami nodded, and he could see it in her eyes. Her mind was percolating, considering and working through all of the information that he'd provided her.

"So, you're supposed to be Alice, and I'm…" she looked down at her own outfit with dismay, "I'm the Caterpillar…" Mamoru couldn't help the small smile that formed onto his lips. At least he wasn't the only one disturbed by their current attire. "Are you positively sure that it's Usagi's declaration of love that pulls us out of these...nightmares?"

His brow furrowed as he quietly considered her question for a moment, replaying the horrific final moments of the last nightmare in his mind. "I think so. That's how the last dream ended; with her finally admitting that she loved me. As soon as she did, she woke up, remembered everything, and the dream was over," he said, unable to bite back a sigh of frustration as he raked a hand through his hair. It didn't make sense, really. He knew that. But it was the only thing they had to go on right now.

Ami was silent, quietly ruminating, before a look of awe-filled wonder washed over her face. "Wow. The sheer amount of work and power that would have been needed to construct something so _elaborate_ is practically inconceivable. I would love to see the kind of ingenuity used to concoct this sort of…"

She probably could have continued musing theories out loud to herself for ages if Mamoru hadn't interrupted her. "Ami," he said gently, with raised eyebrows and an amused smile on his face.

Ami's gaze snapped back over to him, and her eyes cleared and perceptibly widened. She blushed, her face reddening brightly. "Sorry," she squeaked with embarrassment, and he coughed to cover up an involuntary chuckle. While he liked to think that he'd become friends with all of the Senshi, he related best with logical, quiet Ami, whose thoughts often aligned perfectly with his. She cleared her throat again. "So, what's the next step, Mamoru?"

Her question firmly brought the task at hand back into the forefront of his mind. "Well, I'm going to go find Rei," he declared resolutely and pushed away from the mushroom he'd been sitting on. "If Usagi is with her, she'll know what to do. Maybe she's already talking to Usagi...trying to get her to remember," he said with a slightly wistful tone. Mamoru _hoped_ that's what she was doing, anyway.

"Okay, so let's go find Rei," Ami said as she curled delicate fingers around the edge of the mushroom cap, and leveraged it to gracefully push herself to her feet. "I'm curious to hear her thoughts on this turn of events," she murmured thoughtfully, the fear that had been imbued in her eyes now replaced with curiosity and determination.

He knew that Ami would continue on calmly, and he was relieved to have her ability to solve the impossible on his side. Who knew what characters they would encounter next?

The thought made him cringe as it reminded him that the generals were here and that Ami still had no idea that they were alive. He wasn't sure if they would encounter Nephrite and Jadeite, but if they did, he knew Ami would have questions. He remembered the love she'd held for Zoisite.

Mamoru grimaced as he mentally prepared himself for what he needed to tell her next; something he wished he could have avoided. "Ami, one more thing," he took a deep breath as she turned towards him, her face lit up as she eagerly awaited the next bit of information he was about to give her. Mamoru's stomach turned a bit. "Zoisite's here," he blurted, then flinched as he watched her bright expression fade. The blood drained from her face, and her eyes widened and filled with a mixture of sorrow and confusion.

"Zoisite…" she breathed, her eyes wandering and clouding over as she became lost in the memories that flooded her senses.

He swallowed and wished he could spare her the pain evoked by those memories. "All of the generals are here. They were in the last dream, too. I don't know how, but somehow they've made it back," he said carefully. He knew that this _had_ to be hard on her. Though his memories as Endymion were hazy at best, he did recall the tender reverence he'd witnessed between his Generals and Serenity's Senshi.

Ami shook her head in denial, "How is that possible?" Her mind was reeling, and he could see the confusion in her eyes as she tried to process something that was even more illogical to her than being trapped in Wonderland. "Zoisite...he's…" she trailed off painfully.

"Here," Mamoru finished for her. She glanced up at him, and his heart clenched at the tears that welled and glistened in her eyes. She quickly blinked them back, took a deep breath and forced a calmly impassive look on her face. She visibly reigned in any emotion that may have crept through with his revelation.

With a reassuring smile and a curt nod of her head, she resolutely met his gaze. "Who is he in this world?" She asked, her eyes narrowed and filled with curiosity.

Mamoru cringed. "One of the Tweedles," he murmured hesitantly, studying her reaction nervously.

Ami blinked, her expression bewildered as she tilted her head to the side in confusion, cyan-colored locks tumbling over her shoulder with the movement. "One of the _Tweedles?"_ She whispered, her lips forming around the word as if she were speaking a foreign language that she couldn't understand.

He was confused for a moment when a sudden, slightly horrifying thought occurred to him. "Ami, have you actually _seen_ Alice in Wonderland?" he demanded, then let out a strangled breath of disbelief as she bit her lower lip, and a crimson tinge of embarrassment spread across her face. "Not even the _book_?!" he whispered harshly, and Ami crossed her arms and glared at him defensively.

"Look, just because I'm intelligent doesn't mean that I'm expected to have read every _single_ book in existence, Mamoru!" She exclaimed, her fingers twisting at the bottom seam of her Persian blue pashmina nervously. "I mean, especially Alice in Wonderland. The entire concept was ridiculous!" She snapped, then swivelled around in a flurried huff of sheepish indignation. "Let's just go find Rei, so that we can save Usagi and get out of here," she murmured, her posture unyielding and stiff as she moved ahead of him.

With an exasperated sigh, he moved to follow her. He was still infinitely grateful that Ami was awake and his ally in this. It would have been much easier, though, if the Senshi of intelligence had a clue about what it was they were about to face.

He was sure that if the creators of this world were watching him right now, they were surely laughing.

oOo

They walked in tandem, still small in size, through the daunting fields of plants that he'd never seen before. Ami was _apparently_ having a difficult time wrapping her head around the eccentricities that made up Wonderland. As a result, the Senshi of intelligence, usually known for her calm, _quiet_ demeanour wouldn't _stop_ talking. She kept sprouting ideas and theories that explored the multiple possibilities that might logically explain the reason for the nightmares and the false worlds that they were continually being thrust into. Mamoru considered himself a relatively intelligent person, but he could only listen and smile as she recounted the theoretical differences between books what she'd read on parallel universes and multiverses.

Her gaze kept darting around nervously as they walked, and she warily kept her eyes on the array of insects and small creatures that moved around them. Mamoru offered her a comforting smile more than once, as he made a concerted effort to remain close to her. He knew just how terrifying this world and its inhabitants were. He was at least afforded the luxury of having knowledge of Wonderland and what might happen next. She did not; which was _very_ evident by the way she tensed and sidled up to him whenever an abnormally large ant or completely fabricated creature happened to get near them. It was promptly followed by a catch of terror in her voice, as she fumbled over her words, and he would take over the conversation in an attempt to calm her.

They'd been moving pretty steadily, their movements hurried as they tried to determine their best course of action. The dull throb in his calves that mirrored the despondency that was starting to settle in his chest was beginning to get to him though, and he briefly considered stopping so they could catch their breath and regain their bearings. It was an impossibly large world, and he suddenly had more respect for Alice and the constant confusion that had plagued her.

He leaned over to make the suggestion to Ami, as he caught sight of something curling up into the sky over the horizon. His pace slowed, and his eyes narrowed in confusion as he fixed his gaze onto it. Was that... _smoke?_ Beside him, Ami slowed as well, "Ami," his voice felt like it was caught in his throat. "Do you see?"

"Smoke," Ami clarified with a nod. "It looks like smoke coming from a chimney," her tone was matter of fact, not bothered by the sight like he was. He couldn't put his finger on the reason behind the nervous dread coiling in his chest until it suddenly clicked into place. _Smoke coming from a chimney?_ He didn't remember any chimney smoke in any of the countless versions he'd read or seen in the Wonderland story.

He grimaced at the thought. _So much for the luxury of knowing._ "Come on," he murmured reassuringly, and lightly grasped Ami's arm, softly steering her with him toward the rising soot. She followed wordlessly and kept up with him as his pace quickened.

He quickly noticed when his feet moved from dirt and grass to the firm texture of stone. His breath hitched in his throat, and he was only dimly aware of the red, haphazard cobblestones as they hurriedly moved along the new pathway. The further they went, the more the dense forest thinned, and it was clear that the smoke was coming from a small cottage that became visible as the foliage finally gave way and opened up into a small clearing. Well, the cottage was probably considered small to a _normal-sized person._ To him and Ami, it loomed over them like an impossibly large-sized castle.

The expression on Ami's face mirrored his own as she halted just behind him. Her eyes were wide, and the aquamarine pools filled with awestruck wonder as her gaze fixed onto the building before her.

It was definitely quaint; a white stone cottage drenched in moss and flowers sat at the end of the stone path that they'd followed here. It was modestly sized, with only two starburst, radius topped-shaped windows, lined in cherry-stained trimming, that lay tucked beneath the small, oval-shaped overhanging parts of the layered, cedarwood thatched roof. The wooden door, which was the same colour as the trimming, was slightly warped, and even closed, didn't quite align with the tan-colored siding.

He was quietly inspecting the cottage, when a certain beautiful girl, a flurry of white fabric and blonde hair, rushed in front of the window. He inhaled sharply, his body tensing in anticipation. _Usako!_ His feet moved of their own accord, and carried him rapidly across the remaining distance, toward the cottage. He could hear Ami running behind him as she tried her best to keep up, but he couldn't help but pick up speed as Usagi moved away from the window and disappeared from his view.

When they finally made it to the door, he frantically scanned it, eager to find some sort of crack or hole that would allow them entry. It was frustrating, the panic building in its intensity in his chest as he hurriedly searched and found nothing.

He was considering the extra time it would take them to walk around the cottage when Ami's excited voice echoed around him. "Mamoru!" She called out. He turned to see her at the other end of the door, an oddly disconcerting sight of her body half through to the other side. "I found a way in!" Her words were muffled as they drifted through the opening.

His breathing quickened, and in three giant strides, he made his way to the blue-haired Senshi. His gaze firmly fixed onto the sight of her as she suddenly disappeared through the door. As he approached, he finally noted a crack twisted and etched into a groove in the big wooden planks. It was dark and well hidden, which explained why he'd so easily missed it. It was one of those moments where he was infinitely grateful for Ami as he slipped through, and made his way into the home.

He nearly collided into Ami's back as she'd skidded to a halt and was gawking, open-mouthed, eyes filled with wonder at the perfectly quaint home that towered over them. It was warm, dimly lit and perfectly cozy with low hanging wooden beams, carefully crafted, impossibly large pieces of wooden furniture covered in rustic flowered patterned material, and mismatched golden and silver gilded photos of country scenes, like pretty little water cans, hanging on the walls. He took a step past Ami, inhaling deeply as his gaze desperately searched the room. Usagi was in here somewhere. He had to find her. _He had to-_

His thoughts were cut short as a loud thudding reverberated from the other room, the sound ominously vibrating through the wooden plank beneath his feet. Mamoru's eyes widened as a huge Usagi suddenly came barreling from a different area of the house. He was instantly relieved that he hadn't missed her again. But his relief quickly faded into terror when he realized that the extremely large version of his little rabbit was currently headed in their direction. With a speed that he didn't know he possessed, he twisted around, grabbed Ami by the waist, and threw both their bodies to the side, sliding across the floor, as Usagi's white, slightly scuffed Mary-Jane shoe landed right where they'd been standing. He cringed, his heart hammering as he pondered the near miss, and they both watched as she bounded into another room, and disappeared from view.

Mamoru dropped his head to the floor as both he and Ami took a moment to collect themselves, their breathing laboured and their chests heaving from the exertion and the terror of narrowly being crushed. After a moment, Ami sat up and turned to look down at him, a red-tinged blush, embarrassment for needing to be rescued, crept up her neck and spread across her cheeks. She quickly curled slender legs beneath her and leveraged her hands to jump to her feet, averting her eyes as she straightened her dress out. "Thank you," she muttered, her tone breaking with unbidden emotion.

He smiled softly. "No problem," he groaned and winced as he slowly stood, and stretched a kink from his neck. The soreness of landing hard on the ground was starting to throb dully through his muscles.

He brushed off his ridiculously tight pants, thankful that they hadn't impeded his movements, and carefully scrutinized his surroundings. "We need to find a way to get her attention," he murmured to himself, his tone laced with resolute determination. There _had_ to be a way to get her to notice them down here. Then again, from this height, what would he even say to her? How could he get her to fall in love with him when she towered over him at such great lengths? He shook his head to clear it. He couldn't dwell on that particular thought just now. His first priority was to simply find a way to _talk_ to her.

"Up there!" Ami exclaimed, and pointed to a polished oak table in the center of the room. "If we can reach the top of the table, we should have enough visibility to get her attention," she reasoned calmly, her eyes wide and hopeful.

He nodded curtly, then sighed, a grimace twisting onto his face as his eyes peered up at the looming height of the table. "How do we get up there, though?" That was a _long_ way up, and an even longer way down should they happen to fall. In the regular world, he could have turned into Tuxedo Kamen and just jumped his way to the top of the table. In this world, though, he would have to climb. It was a daunting task, and he wasn't sure exactly how he was going to achieve it. But he had to. He just _had_ to. And _before_ she came back into the room and he missed her again.

Taking a deep, shuttered breath, he made his way to the leg of the four-columned table. It was then that he noticed the intricate designed etched into the wood, that worked itself all the way up to the top. He quickly glanced back at Ami to see that she also studying the woodwork.

"The layout of these etchings in the wood could provide the right amount of leverage to climb to the surface of the table," she stated as her eyes darted from design to design.

He internally shook his head and smiled. "Took the words right out of my mouth, Ami," he said as he made his way to the leg. As he grabbed onto a ledge, his fingers curling around the splintered edging, he looked back at her over his shoulder. "Stay here. Under the table, so you don't get stepped on. When I get to the top and get her attention, I'll let her know you're down here," he ordered, his tone filled with an authoritative firmness he hadn't really intended.

Ami frowned indignantly. "Why would I stay down here? I'm perfectly capable of climbing this table just as well as you are," she snapped, her eyes narrowed with irritation.

He sighed, dropped his hand, and turned to face her completely. "I know you can. It's just that it will be hard enough climbing this thing by myself With the both of us, it will just be more difficult, and take more time. This is the easiest way for us both to get up to the top safely," he assured her, though he purposefully failed to mention that although he knew she would more than likely have no problem climbing up with him, he didn't want to have to worry about her the whole time. It was probably sexist, but he couldn't help his innate instincts to protect her. Besides, it would distract him, which really would make it more likely that they would both fall and get seriously hurt, if not worse. And there was no telling what would happen if someone died in one of these dreams. He shuddered at the thought.

Ami nodded, not looking entirely satisfied with his explanation, though her face softened with an understanding for what he was getting at. She crossed her arms as she stepped further under the table, effectively shielding herself from any more would-be Usagi footprints.

Mamoru turned back to the intimidating high rise before him. His stomach churned, and he took a deep breath as he grabbed hold of the first ledge and tucked his foot into another at the base. With one more glance at Ami, who gave him a reassuring nod and smile, he hoisted himself up.

As Mamoru climbed higher and higher, he didn't dare look down at the ground. He wasn't scared of heights, but a lot was resting on him to make it to the top. It made him dizzy, but the knowledge that Usagi was somewhere in this house, that she was _so close,_ gave him the strength he needed to continue upward, even as his muscles began to burn. And this restricting, _ridiculous_ outfit was _not_ helping matters at all!

He had no idea what he was going to say to her when he finally did get her attention, and he swallowed nervously as he continued his climb upwards, only slipping once before he reached the top.

Once he'd leveraged himself over the edge, he bent over, hands on his knees, as he tried to catch his breath. A thud in the other room caught his attention, making him stand upright and face the door Usagi had gone through earlier. He heard a faintly muttered, "ow!" as the door opened and Usagi emerged slowly, her face twisted into a pained grimace as she rubbed her backside through the tufts of lace that made up her ruffled skirt. He grinned and shook his head with loving amusement. Even in different worlds, his Usako was still a klutz.

As her large form neared the table, he ran to the edge, his lungs burning with the exertions as he called out to her. "Usagi! Usagi!..." his throat began to burn hoarsely with the force he was pushing into his words. "White Rabbit!"

At that, Usagi stopped short, her eyes widening as she looked around in confusion, her blonde tresses twisting around her face with the movement. "Down here! On the table!" He yelled hoarsely. Her head whipped into the direction of the table and she gasped as she finally spotted him. He felt the air leave his body as their eyes finally met. _Finally._

She rushed over to him, bent down and brought her face level with the table and directly in front of him. His breathing hitched as her big beautiful sapphire-blue eyes filled with wonder.

"Hey...who are you?" She asked confused, the sweetly melodic trill of her voice resonating around him. His heart immediately deflated. In the last dream, she'd known who he was. Here, it would seem that she didn't know him at all…

He smiled sadly, "Mamoru," he introduced himself, and tried to hide the disappointment and hurt that twisted around his heart. "My name is Mamoru."

She blinked twice, lacy black lashes fanning the tops of her cheeks when they fluttered closed. "Mamoru," she stated slowly before her lips curled into a sweet smile. "Nice to meet you, Mamoru!" Her voice boomed around him, and he clamped his hands over his ears in an attempt to dull the sound. Her eyes widened, and she snapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh Gosh, I'm so sorry," she whispered with dismay, and he smiled as he pulled his hands away. "Nice to meet you, Mamoru," she said, this time in a sweet, thoughtful, exaggerated whisper that made his heart skip a beat. "Why are you so small?"

Mamoru sighed. "I shrunk to get through a door," he replied, captivated by the soft pink tinge that spread across her facial features. He did have to admit, she was seriously cute as Wonderland's rabbit.

She tilted her head to the side. "So you aren't supposed to be this small?" She questioned innocently, and he shook his head. "Hmm…" she thought to herself as she tapped her chin with one long slender finger. "I have just the thing!" She exclaimed, straightened up and skipped to the counter across the room.

On top of the counter was a plate of cookies. She picked through the treats, searching for just the right one. When she found it, she squealed in delight, hopped excitedly in place and practically bounced back to the table. With a broad smile, she broke off a small crumb and dropped it on the table next to him. He looked down at the crumb before glancing back up at her overly smiling, beautiful face.

"What's this?" he asked skeptically. He knew the cooking skills of the Usagi in his world, and he eyed the dessert in front of him warily.

Usagi giggled, "It will help you grow!" She clapped her hands excitedly and urged him to eat it. He took a deep breath as he grabbed the crumb, giving it one more look before shoving it into his mouth.

It didn't taste bad at all. Actually, it was quite _good_! He smiled up at her indulgently, and she giggled with delight as he swallowed the piece of cookie. Suddenly, he felt himself starting to stretch, as the table began to shrink beneath him. She, too, began getting smaller as he finally reached his full height and found himself sitting on the said table, that wobbled slightly under the added weight. He looked down at himself, breathing a sigh of ecstatic relief that he was finally himself again.

He grinned at her warmly and was rewarded by another sweet giggle as she jumped in place and clapped her hands, cute and proud of herself for helping him. He couldn't help but stare. After all, he'd been through to find her, here she was, standing in front of him in the strangely appealing outfit and a sweetly innocent smile on her face.

He was still lost in her gaze when he suddenly remembered Ami, and his eyes widened as he quickly jumped off of the table. "Can I have another crumb?" he asked her and held out his hand. She frowned, her golden brows knit in confusion as she handed him another piece.

"Are you supposed to be even bigger?" she questioned with disbelief, and her wide-eyed gaze swept over his form as if she was imagining him growing to a bigger size.

His eyes softened, and his lips curled involuntarily into another indulgent smile. "No. It's for my friend," Mamoru explained as he dropped to his knees and crawled under the table to find Ami waiting. With a smile, he held out the piece of cookie in his hand to the little blue-haired Senshi, and a tiny hand shot out to gently take it from him. He made sure to shield her, protecting her from any would be random falling debris as she made her way out from under the table and took a bite of the crumb.

Mamoru sat back and watched as she grew to her normal height and stretched as if she'd been cramped underneath that table. He turned back to his little bunny, who looked utterly confused as she tilted her head slightly to the side and looked at the bluenette.

"Aren't you...the caterpillar?" she stuttered slightly, her tone puzzled and her eyes wide and full of concerned confusion.

"This is my friend, Ami," Mamoru stated, lightly touching Ami on the arm, as he pulled her up a step closer to the blonde. After a moment, Usagi flashed them a beautiful smile that made his heart skip a beat and sent a fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Hi, Ami! Nice to meet you!" She giggled. Ami smiled softly and waved. She was clearly as enchanted with Usagi as he was.

Usagi turned back towards him, and he couldn't help but notice the small blush that tinged her features as her gaze focused in his direction. "Anyway, I'm glad I could help, but I really have to get back to what I was doing. I'm terribly late!" She immediately said, and a hurried panic filled her eyes at the reminder.

She tried to step around him, but he gently clasped her arm. "Wait," he said, and he could hear the desperation in his own voice. He cleared his throat and pulled himself together as she tilted her head again in the most innocent display he'd ever seen. He opened his mouth soundlessly for a few seconds as his mind raced through all of the things he wished he could say to her. "What are you doing? Can I help?" he asked softly. The small smile and blush that took over her face elated him, and he had to restrain himself from not pulling her small form into his arms.

"Well, um, sure. I'm looking for my gloves. I need to find them before I go see the Queen," she bit her bottom lip innocently and blinked up at him.

"Are these them?" Ami said from across the room. He'd been so focused on Usagi, he hadn't noticed Ami move. He silently cursed the Senshi of water as his beautiful bunny pulled away from him and skipped excitedly over to Ami, who had quietly distanced herself from the couple. There on a side table sat a white pair of gloves.

With a squeal of excitement, she scooped up her gloves, shoved her dainty hands into them and flexed her fingers. With a smile, first, to Ami, then to Mamoru, she made to move towards the door. "Thanks so much for your help!" She exclaimed excitedly. "I really have to go!"

 _No!_ He couldn't let her leave just like that. He'd finally found her!

"Wait!" he called out again. She halted and peered over her shoulder at him, her cheeks flushed and her breath slightly heaving. Mamoru quickly made his way to her, his own breath hitched with anticipation, his fingers instinctively flexing with his need to reach out to her. "Where are you going?"

She twirled around to face him, a look of genuine dismay on her face. "I...I have to go…" she breathed, her eyes locked onto his, her gaze filled with a mesmerized wonder as she stood rooted in place. "I have to go see the Queen. And I'm late. She doesn't like it when I'm late. She's cruel, and I'm...I'm afraid of her…" she trailed off, her voice small and almost ashamed as she averted her gaze and fixed it onto the floor. His heart began to race as the need to protect his little bunny twisted in his chest. In his world, Usagi was powerful; a beautiful and fiercely strong Senshi warrior that defeated enemies regularly. Here, she seemed so much smaller, more vulnerable and it tore at his heart. He gently grasped her chin and lifted it to face him.

He needed her to hear this. "I promise I won't ever let the Queen, or anyone else, ever hurt you, Usako," he stated plainly. Her eyes widened, and he heard her sharp intake of breath. He noted the visible rise and fall of her chest with the quickening of her breath as she began to back away slowly, pulling herself out of his grasp.

Suddenly, she dropped, tripping over something he didn't see. It was something he was very used to, and without even thinking about it, he swept forward and expertly caught her. He'd prevented her from falling, as he had so many times before. She grasped his arms, clutching a little more tightly than she needed to, as he carefully steadied her and pulled her back up into a standing position.

He felt her tremble beneath his fingertips. "Usako?" she breathed quietly. "That means rabbit, right? What an interesting way to say my name," she whispered, her tone filled with awe as her brow knit with bewilderment. He wondered if he'd sparked something in her memories, and he had to consciously bite the inside of his lip to keep from saying something. He knew what would happen if he tried to tell her what that her world wasn't real.

He was finally holding her in his arms, and he had to reign in the desire he had to crush her to his chest and never let her go. But she was so _close,_ and he felt their bodies moving closer together as if they were stuck in a magnetic field. "This feels familiar. Have you caught me like this before?" she questioned raggedly. Her breath warmly fanned across his lips, and her eyes widened as her lips parted ever so slightly. He knew what was coming. He could feel the crackling in the air between them so he couldn't be bothered to answer her question.

A ringing sound echoed around the cottage and Usagi jumped, startled, as she quickly pulled out of his arms, and glanced down at her watch. "Oh, no!" she cried, her tone frantic and filled with terror. "Oh, I'm so very late! I must go! Thank you for your help!" She exclaimed with a slightly clumsy twist of her body. "Buh-Bye!" And with that, she flew out of the door and down the path.

Mamoru felt cold and disoriented with her departure. _What just happened?_ He'd been so _close_! And now she was gone. Wait... _she was gone!_ His eyes widened and, with a harshly muttered expletive, he raced out of the door after her. "Usako!" he cried out. He could hear Ami behind him as he ran, and she called out to him. But he couldn't stop. He _couldn't._ She'd been right there... _right there_! And he'd let her slip through his fingers. "Usako!" he yelled again, as he desperately followed the path he knew she'd taken.

He skidded to a halt as they came upon a fork in the road. He looked in both directions, his gaze furiously skipping back and forth, as he tried to determine which path she'd taken. But both paths looked _precisely_ the same.

"No," he whispered to himself angrily as he shook his head. How had he let this happen? "Son of a bitch!" he cried out with barely restrained fury, as he kicked over a nearby boulder in an attempt to release some of his frustration. When Ami finally reached him, she remained silent and considered their options as she allowed him to kick out the last bit of his temper. After a moment, Mamoru crouched down, took a deep breath, and calmed himself before standing and making his way back to her. She gave him a tentative look as if asking permission to speak after his outburst. He sighed, closed his eyes, and apologetically waved his hand, signaling her to continue.

"It seems we've come to a fork in the road. The only logical approach would be for us to split up." She held her head high as she spoke.

He frowned, slowly shaking his head in quiet protest. "Ami...you don't know anything about Wonderland. Are you sure-" But he was sufficiently cut off as she violently shook her head, and raised a hand to silence him.

"We have to find Usagi. This is the best way to accomplish that. It's what we have to do. I will be just fine, Mamoru," she said bravely, her chin jutted out proudly with determination. He didn't like this at all. The very last thing he wanted was to let her go out into the harsh Wonderland landscape on her own. Just like Usagi, she was vulnerable here. But she was also right. They needed to find Usagi, and he was going to have to trust that she was going to be alright. He exhaled slowly and raked a hand through his hair as he offered her a tentative smile.

He'd always admired her, and he knew she was just as capable as he was. "You take a left? I'll take a right?" he suggested with a raised eyebrow. She nodded with a relieved smile and, with a graceful twist of her body, turned to leave in a flurry of vibrant blue. "Ami," he called, and she turned to see him making his way to her. He pulled her into a gentle hug, one she reciprocated. "Be careful."

She nodded again. "You too."

He released her and watched as she turned back to the left path and made her way toward the clearing in the distance. Once he lost sight of her, he turned to face is own path; one that led into the woods. With a deep sigh, he steeled his resolve and headed into the forest. He would find her again. He had to.

oOo

He found himself being more cognizant of where he stepped, (having personally just been small enough to be crushed under the heel of a boot) as he made his way deeper into the forest. The strange purple trunked trees, with their steadily swaying branches and the vast array of multicoloured leaves, thickened the further he walked. The winding path thinned as the vegetation, unkempt, grew wilder, curling outwards and covering everything in its way.

It was warm, and the sweet scent of honeysuckle assaulted his senses as he stopped. He inhaled deeply with his eyes clenched shut as he attempted to calm his heart that had begun to race with panic, and steady his breath that had quickened with anxiety-ridden impatience. Every moment that they were trapped here, every second he was away from Usagi, made him nervous. Although the fact that two of the Senshi were now awake slightly comforted him, he still couldn't stop the helpless, all-encompassing feeling that coursed through him with the daunting task of wading through this impossibly large world.

He'd steeled his resolve, bearing down with determination, when he heard a teasing lilt drift around him, intermingled enticingly with the breeze. "Oh, what are you doing?" the giggling chime in the tone of those words were vaguely familiar, and Mamoru whipped his head around, and his gaze furiously scanned his surroundings.

"I'm up here!"

He craned his neck to peer up into a nearby tree and squinted in confusion at where he was sure the sound had come from.

His eyes widened. Standing precariously on a thick outstretched limb of the tree, in a flurry of blonde hair, with a wide white-toothed grin splayed out across her lips, was Minako.

While most of the strange outfits that his friends had been wearing up until this point had been alarming and out of place, Minako's outfit oddly suited her.

She was in her element, and on anyone else, the dress would look seriously gaudy. But not Minako. She was clad in her signature colours; a gold and orange striped dress that fit the Senshi of love like a tightly wrapped glove. A muslin material, the short-sleeved corsetted contraption accentuated her curves and was laced with a yellow satin ribbon that was looped into a bow that sat daintily on her chest.

The dress was short, just like most of the skirts she wore, but this one expanded around her hips due to a yellow ruffled petticoat that probably would have been more suitable for a child rather than this strange version of Minako.

Her knee-high socks mirrored the colours of her dress, tiny satin bows just above her knees. The whole ridiculous outfit was topped off with a pair of orange-furred cat ears perched on the top of her head, her red bow curiously absent. He supposed that she was supposed to represent an orange colored alley cat, and he rolled his eyes, silently scoffing at whatever monster had decided to create this strange version of Alice in Wonderland's Cheshire cat.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if offering a silent prayer for patience, then, with a sigh, took a step closer to the tree. "Minako?" he questioned, his tone laced with exasperation. It somehow seemed _fitting_ that Minako had been the one chosen to play this role.

The blonde-haired Senshi giggled loudly, and he tensed. His breath caught in his throat as she let herself fall backwards. Her body froze mid-air for a moment before she slowly began to float downwards. Her blonde hair and the strange ruffled fabric of her dress rippled around her as she gently landed onto her back on a thicker branch just below the one she'd been standing on.

She propped herself up onto her elbows, crossed a slender leg over the other, and tilted her head to the side to peer down at him with an impish smile and mischievous glint in her eyes. "I'm a cat," she exclaimed merrily and lifted her hand, a slender finger gesturing at the ears perched crookedly at the top of her head. "The Cheshire cat, to be exact," she purred, then swiftly twisted herself onto her stomach, planted her elbows onto the tree limb in front of her, and perched her chin into the palms of her hands.

He had a difficult time understanding Minako in the real world. Why not make it even harder by making her the riddle-spouting cat of Wonderland? It's not like things were _hard enough!_

He exhaled deeply, willing to play this game if it meant he could somehow find Usagi more quickly. "Do you know where I can find the rabbit?" He questioned tentatively and watched with dismay as Minako's expression brightened, and she squealed with excitement.

"Oh! Well, she could be anywhere, now couldn't she?" Minako exclaimed cryptically. "Though if I were you, I would go to brunch. She surely doesn't eat like a rabbit, does she?" Minako chortled, her eyes welling with tears of laughter as if she thought she'd just said the funniest thing in the world.

Mamoru exhaled again slowly for patience as he considered Minako's words. The Rabbit was eating brunch. That was not particularly helpful, though. A frown formed slowly in between his brows as he thought about it carefully. "Is she at a party?" he demanded, fishing for information as a sneaking suspicion began to creep to the forefront of his mind.

Minako smiled impishly, her tone playful as she rolled onto her side, and stretched her lithe form out along the branch just like the cat she was pretending to be. She sinuously curled one arm in front of her chest and the other carefully propped up her head. Her blonde locks of glossy hair cascaded haphazardly all around her, trailing down the tree and fluttering gently in the breeze.

"I suppose, for all intense and purposes, she is at a party!" She exclaimed wryly, blinking down at him mischievously.

Mamoru rolled his eyes. "I think you mean for all _intents_ and purposes," he stated dryly, shaking his head. It didn't matter what role they wove for the Senshi of Venus, they'd _never_ be able to change her.

Minako raised an eyebrow and tilted her head slightly. "Did I, though?" she purred, the question uttered with tantalizing mystery. "Their parties do tend to get intense, seeing that they're mad and all," she stated, her tone matter of fact.

Mamoru remembered this specific quote, and he decided to beat her to it. "Right, because most everyone's mad here?" he retorted with a sardonic lilt.

Minako gasped and leveraged her hands to push her body up as she swung her legs over the limb so that she was in a sitting position. She propped a delicate hand on her hip and waved her finger in the air with a satisfying smile curled onto her lips. "Exactly! Why _are_ there so many mad people here? The other day, I kid you not, the flowers cursed at me with so much _rage! Can you believe it?_ So many mad creatures here in Wonderland!" She ranted, her indignant tirade spoken so quickly it took a moment for it to register that when _she_ said mad, she meant angry as opposed to the original Wonderland quote.

He was sure that if the author of Wonderland were present, they'd be horrified with Minako's version of the Cheshire cat.

He shook his head in disbelief. "I don't have time for this," he muttered, deciding that Minako had no idea what she was talking about and took a step away from her tree.

He stopped when Minako cleared her throat loudly, swung her legs over the tree limb, flung herself backwards, and hooked her legs around the branch to hang upside down from the tree. He gasped and jumped back as her face fell, _upside down,_ and eye level with his. The strands of her hair whipped across his cheeks, smarting slightly, as the momentum forcefully propelled the glossy locks downwards.

His gaze fixed onto the strange sight with disbelief, and her grin widened. "Just follow the path behind this tree. You'll find her," Minako said with a giggle. "Also, you should probably tell your little bunny, that curiosity killed the rabbit," she said, then swung her upper body up, locked her hands onto the branch on either side of her legs, before she tucked her knees up into her chest and used her feet to forcefully propel herself off of the tree. He had to duck as she flipped over his head and landed gracefully on her feet just behind him.

He swivelled around to face her, his breath hitched with alarm in his throat after witnessing Minako's daring acrobatic act. "I'm pretty sure you mean that curiosity killed the cat," he choked, his eyes narrowing as her form slowly began to flicker.

Minako snorted and offered him one last smile. This one was filled with scathing sympathy. "Why would I mean that?" She questioned, her tone filled with mystery and a strange, magic-laced wonder that he would forever associate with Wonderland. "I am the cat, and I'm not curious, so I will not die," she said, as the edges of her form began to imperceptibly blur. "It makes sense to me…" she trailed off, "but, what makes sense to me, may not make sense at all. You may have noticed I'm not all there myself," she said, and with her parting words, and an eerie giggle reverberating through his head, she disappeared with a pop.

He stood rooted in place for a moment, frozen, as the only sound around him was the wind as it whistled through the leaves. He hadn't realized his mouth had fallen open until he forcibly snapped it shut and shook his head to clear the strange disbelieving daze that was remnants from the peculiar, wholly _unbelievable_ encounter with Minako.

With a growl of irritation and a twist of his body, he was now stomping down the path indicated by the orange-clad _cat._ This weird version of Wonderland was definitely the stuff of nightmares, and he needed to get the _hell_ out of here.

oOo

The Wonderland version of Minako was just as frustrating as the real-life version of Minako, so he wasn't entirely sure the vague directions, mischievously offered with an impish smile could be implicitly trusted. In fact, after the third time passing what he was certain was the same damn tree, he had half a mind to turn back around, find her, and wring her neck.

He was on the verge of doing _just that_ when he stumbled onto the part of this tale that he'd forgotten but admittedly disliked the most.

In retrospect, he should have known that when Minako had sweetly advised him that Usako had been sitting down for brunch at a party, that it was going to be that god awful Mad Hatter scene.

He wasn't sure what he would have imagined himself in this situation, but the monsters that had placed them here definitely did not disappoint.

He had to give them credit for creativity, when he collided, very painfully, into the tall, statuesque Amazon-like figure that could only belong to the Senshi of Jupiter.

It was like she'd leapt out of nowhere. He grunted, wincing with a sharp intake of breath, painfully hissing through his teeth as he fell backwards, landing, hard, onto the cobblestoned pathway he'd been travelling on. He'd managed to brace himself with his forearms, but a sharp stinging sensation coursed up his spine from the small of his back that had borne the brunt of the jarring impact.

He couldn't help the glare of irritation that glinted from the pools of hardened cobalt eyes as he stared up into Makoto's face that was contorted into an amused, half-crazed expression as she stood over him. Her gaze held a mixture of curiosity and gleeful delight.

Of all the versions of the Mad Hatter that flashed through his mind, he grudgingly admitted to himself that this one was the best. Makoto looked quite at ease in a forest-green, velvet, vintage-styled, trench coat with subtly embossed swirls etched into its lapels. Big brass buttons cinching it closed at her waist, tufts of lace exploding from its cuffs and encircling slender hands that were currently propped onto her hips. A cream coloured necktie, with silly-cartooned images of flowers and cupcakes sewn into it, tied into a winged bow around her neck.

With a groan, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, bringing himself eye-level with her knees, currently clothed in black leather leggings, as she impatiently tapped the toe of one of her green leathered ankle-boots.

She cleared her throat, and he lifted his gaze once more just as the Senshi grinned widely, pulled the excessively large top hat from her head before bending forwards, folding in half at her waist, and dramatically swept her arms into a bow. The loose, glossy locks of chestnut brown hair tumbled forward with the movement.

She, ever so slightly, cocked her head up to meet his gaze. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance," she said, her tone and gestures dramatic and over the top as she swept back up, tall and proud, with a flourishing movement and a maniacal grin on her face. "Are you here for brunch?"

Mamoru's eyes widened, and he barely choked back a hysterical laugh of his own as he pulled himself to his feet, and brushed the specks of dirt from his stupidly tight pants. The Mad Hatter unbirthday scene was the very last place he wanted to be, and though Jupiter strangely fit the role, he wanted to turn back and take another path. He would have if what she'd said hadn't chosen that moment to fully register in his mind. _Brunch._ That's where Minako had told him Usagi was!

He grimaced, and the resigned cobalt blue of his eyes met the amused forest-green of hers. "Yes! I'm here for brunch," he said tentatively, and carefully eyed the Mad Makoto Hatter as her disconcerting grin widened.

"Oh, goodie! We do _so_ love having guests!" She exclaimed, as she turned on her heels with a theatrical twist of her arms and began to saunter away. "We have _quite_ the spread, the Hare and I," she said, glancing back at him over her shoulder with a conspiratorial wink.

There wasn't a damn thing that could surprise him about Wonderland anymore. "Usa- I mean, the White Rabbit," he asked as he followed behind her closely. "She's at brunch, too?" He did his best to keep the urgency from creeping into his tone. He didn't know what kind of reaction to expect from this version of Makoto. It was hard because he needed to know. She just _had_ to be here.

There was a teasing expression that twisted onto Makoto's face, and a flash of mischief glinted in the pools of her eyes, as she gracefully flitted down the path. "Oh, yes! The bunny _never_ misses an opportunity to eat!" She chuckled, thoroughly amused with herself as though she'd just told the funniest joke in the world. His eyes narrowed on the brunettes back, and he couldn't be certain, as everything in Wonderland was off-kilter, but her tone had sounded almost _insulting._ He didn't like to hear Usagi's friend talk about her that way, even here, and he forcibly bit back the defensive retort that bubbled up in his throat.

She continued along, blissfully unaware of his irritation. "Come come, now! This way! We don't want to be late, now do we?" She skipped down the path, her movements speeding up, as she took a sharp turn around an oddly bent, purple-tinged tree. He quickened his pace to catch up. He did _not_ want to be left behind; who knew if he'd be able to find this place if he got lost... _again_!

He chased after her, striding around the tree, and stepped into a clearing in the middle of the woods. Various decorations, half-fallen and slightly torn, hung from random branches that encircled the clearing, and gaudy patio-lantern lights haphazardly intertwined throughout the trees, strung up and hooked from tree branch to tree branch. It was a strange sight, though slightly different from what he remembered.

He sighed, filled with resigned dread as his gaze fell onto a long rectangle table that sat in the middle of the clearing. It was covered in an elegant white cloth, edged with shining green trimming. There was a variety of succulent desserts, from Daifuku to Warabimochi, that covered the table, and hid practically every square inch of the tablecloth. It was involuntary, and he had more _important_ things to think about, but it smelled _so good,_ and he felt his stomach rumble as his mouth began to water. He'd been so caught up in trying to find his bunny beauty that he was only just realizing that he hadn't eaten a thing in who knew how long.

Makoto trotted ahead of him and sauntered over to the far end of the table. He was still taking in his surroundings, and his gaze automatically scanned along the table, before halting suddenly on another one of the generals. He inhaled sharply, unable to stop the shock that instinctively coursed through him at the sight of them, and almost choked as his eyes met Nephrite's.

His old friend, who was obviously the March Hare, looked equally as ridiculous as the rest of his counterparts. He leaned back casually in a wrought-iron chair, sporting a velvet, royal-purple trench coat over a coppered coloured vest in the same material. A little black bowtie sat above three enormous mismatched brass buttons. His legs, clad in white tapered jeans, were crossed nonchalantly, a black top hat with white bunny ears perched on top of his head. His long brown hair, wild and unkempt, twisted around his shoulders.

His fingers flexed and clenched into fists that pressed into his sides as he gritted his teeth angrily. _Another_ one of his friends inexplicably brought back from the dead and forced to play a strange role in this strange world. The injustice of it was not lost on him, and he inwardly cursed the monsters that had trapped them all here.

Makoto melodramatically cleared her throat, and he turned back to her. "Another guest has arrived!" she called out, and she'd managed to gain the attention of everyone at the table, including what appeared to be _Luna_ lapping at milk in a brightly colored teacup.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of gold that glinted in the light, and he whipped his head towards it. His tensed shoulders relaxed as relief swept through him. Just behind the pale pink frosting of a three-layered cake, peeking over it with wide saucer-sized, bright, blue orbs that innocently blinked up at him, was the little bunny he'd been chasing since he'd opened his eyes here.

 _Usagi._

His breath caught in his throat as her ample, pink-hued lips spread into a dazzling smile, and with a gasp of excitement, she jumped to her feet. She'd dropped the food she was holding onto her plate and swallowed down the large mouthful that she'd been chewing on. His heart melted at the enchanting sight. "Mamoru!" she exclaimed happily, and his throat constricted with emotion at the look of elation that lit up her face at his arrival.

The March Hare chuckled. "Ah, so you know our mystery guest?" Nephrite questioned, and to hear the deep baritone sound of his voice again was jarring. He began to pour himself a cup of what Mamoru could only assume was tea. Usagi nodded her head vigorously, practically vibrating with her excitement, as she peered over at the Hare-garbed General.

He couldn't help the tender smile that curled onto his lips at the sound of her chiming giggle. "Yes! He helped me find my gloves! He and…" she trailed off, a little deflated as she turned back to him, her head tilted to the side questioningly. "Where is your friend, Ami?"

He inwardly grimaced guiltily at the softly whispered question. Where _was_ Ami? He wished that they hadn't split up and he sincerely hoped that she was okay. Wonderland was clearly perilous, especially to someone who knew nothing about it. He honestly still couldn't wrap his head around it. How could the Senshi of intelligence have gone this long without at least skimming _Alice in Wonderland?_

He sighed as he considered his words, and offered Usa an apologetic smile. On the other hand, he was a little glad that she wasn't here to hear Usagi call her _his_ friend instead of her own. All of the Senshi were fiercely protective of their princess, and he knew how much the bluenette loved the blonde. Though her logical disposition would prevent her from showing it, he knew that if she heard her talking like this...as if Ami was nothing to her, it would hurt her. Hell, it had hurt like hell for him. Wonderland was hurting them all, it would seem.

His eyes softened into a tender look as he made his way around the table, and carefully seated himself beside her. "I'll be meeting up with Ami later," he explained gently. Usagi smiled, her gaze firmly fixed onto his face as she, a little clumsily, sat down again. His heart skipped a beat as she bashfully peered up at him from under long, lacy lashes, as an enticing pink blush crept across her cheeks.

His stomach flipped, and he swallowed as he stared at her, positively mesmerized. She was so beautiful, and he knew it didn't matter what happened, what role she was forced to play, or what nightmare they were thrust into, he would always find her. She was his reason for breathing, no matter what world they were in.

Her blush deepened underneath the intensity of his stare. "Would you like something to eat?" she asked shyly and placed a castella cake onto his plate. She watched, chewing her lower lip nervously, as he picked up the piece of cake and took a bite. It was delicious!

He turned back towards her and smiled indulgently with a reassuring nod of his head. "It's good," he declared. Her face lit up, and she began to clap excitedly.

"But of course it is! The Hatter made it!" Nephrite interjected, and Mamoru jumped as his voice boomed around him. Honestly, he'd been so entranced by Usagi that he'd almost forgotten that they were here.

Makoto dramatically bowed again. "We must have only the best desserts for our party," the brunette grinned. "Tea?" Without waiting for an answer, she leaned over, grabbed the teapot and poured the contents into Mamoru's cup. He gave her a grateful smile and slowly took a sip. Damn, even the _tea_ was delicious! The things here were definitely tempting, and he frowned as he pulled the cup away from his lips, wary of some strategically placed trap.

Nephrite promptly refilled his half-empty cup. "Oh...thanks…" he said and set the cup down.

He was contemplating his next course of action when Nephrite spoke again. "Oh, Raaaabbit!" he called in a singsong voice that gained both of their attention. "Ol' Hatty here made you a wonderful cake!" He reached under the table and pulled up a three-tiered cake, decorated in vibrant colors and a multitude of sugar-coated candies. Usagi's eyes widened, and she licked her lips.

He couldn't help but grin. Usagi had an insatiable appetite, it was one of the adorable staples of her personality. Nephrite jumped to his feet, bouncing like the Hare he was imitating and strode opposite of the table from her. He reached over and promptly dropped the cake onto the plate in front of her. It splattered a bit, and the icing sprayed over the plate and table surrounding it.

Usagi drooled over the dessert, and he chuckled as she quickly scooped up her fork, and speared it into the second tier of the cake. She shoved the forkful into her mouth and released a soft moan as her taste buds took in the delightful flavors. Her eyes fluttered closed, black lashes fanning across the tops of her cheeks as she sighed with content. He had to suppress a groan of his own as he felt the blood heating up and rushing through his body as he watched the alluring, innocently seductive display.

Her eyes flew open, "This is delicious," she whispered with pleasure, and his breath caught in his throat. She shoved her fork back into the cake, spearing another piece onto its prongs, then offered it to him. Slowly and deliberately, he stretched his neck and took the forkful into his mouth before sliding it back out slowly. Her eyes widened an impossible size, and he heard her inhale harshly as she completely stopped breathing.

Mamoru chuckled softly as he swallowed the piece of cake in his mouth and wiped a bit of icing from his bottom lip. "You're right. It's delicious," he whispered softly. He ached to pull her into his arms. Even as an innocent little bunny rabbit, Usagi could drive him insane.

Usagi stared at him a moment longer before hastily turning back to the massive cake in front of her. With shaky hands, she cut a piece and placed it on a plate, holding it out to the March Hare, who watched them with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Oh no!" he said with a grin, waving away the plate. "We have plenty of food. This whole cake is for you! We know how much food the bunny likes to pack away!" He laughed, and his tone was taunting, tinged with a cruel edge that had Mamoru straightening with a frown. Usagi froze, her face heating up into a crimson red color, _this time in embarrassment_ before she slouched in her seat and cringed away from the table.

At the end of the table, Matoko let out a shrill-sounding chuckle. "This is why we put out sooo much food every brunch! So we can make sure we have enough for ourselves!" she jeered meanly. The two laughed hard, and Usagi forced the fakest smile he'd ever seen grace her beautiful lips. "Oh, Hare! Now that the Rabbit is _finally_ here, we can break out the ice cream! Lord knows the tea is already cold!" She cackled, and he did not miss the slight tremble in Usagi's lower lip as she tried to maintain a straight face. Mamoru's eyes darkened angrily. He was starting to hate this version of the Senshi of Lightning as well as her counterpart.

"That tends to happen when you're _always late!"_ Nephrite spat out and the table, including the little black feline that had been silently watching up until this point, erupted into guffaws and loud trills of laughter.

Usagi's smile was officially gone now, and she ducked her head with shame as she tried her best to make herself as small as possible. The sight of her beginning to tremble, as tears began to glisten in her eyes, filled him with an intense fury that coursed through him with a ferocity that made his shoulders quake. Their laughing was endless as it echoed around them in differing pitches and octaves. It ripped at his heart to see the vulnerable, sweet innocent version of his Usako being torn apart for the 'flaws' he'd come to love so much in her.

He knew deep down that his rage was intertwined with guilt as well, as he recognized some of the remarks they were making as the same type of thing he'd taunted her with. Albeit, that was before he'd stopped being so thick-headed and finally admitted his love for the beautiful reincarnation of the princess that had stolen his heart and soul so many lifetimes ago. Still, he'd known that the things he'd said to her back then had been cruel, and hearing them coming from someone else enraged him.

"That's enough!" He hissed through gritted teeth as his blazing gaze darted back and forth between them. Their laughter slowed, but their faces were still contorted into looks of amusement.

Makoto glanced over at Nephrite, her eyes dancing with a grin on her face. "Yeah, maybe we should stop, Hare. We would hate for the Rabbit to get upset and run off. Because we both know she wouldn't make it four steps before face planting!" They erupted into laughter again, as they doubled over and clutched at their stomachs. Except for Luna, that rolled onto her back. Beside him, he heard Usagi sniffle, and he was horrified to see tears sliding listlessly down her face.

 _Oh, hell no!_ No one made his Usagi cry. He was consumed with rage as he stood abruptly, his chair flying back as he leaned forward and slammed his hands onto the table. Everything on the table rattled and shook with the jarring impact and Luna meowed indignantly as it spilled her cup of milk.

"I said that's enough!" He roared, his whole body tensed and tightly coiled. His fury must have finally pierced through their dim-witted senses because they immediately stopped laughing and their faces fell as they peered up at him with varying expressions of confusion on their faces.

Nephrite frowned, "Calm down. We were just having fun," he said defensively, holding up his hands in surrender.

The words did nothing to calm his anger. " _Fun?_ You think this is _fun?_ Making fun of a beautiful, innocent girl for no other reason than your own personal amusement?" he ranted, unable to stop the angry words from spilling from his lips. "You should be ashamed of yourselves! What has she ever done to you to warrant this kind of torture?" He hissed furiously, and their faces paled, as they bowed their heads in embarrassment as their shame deepened with every word he spoke.

There was a tug at his pants, and he looked down to see Usagi innocently peering up at him, her eyes wide and still glistening with unshed tears. But this time, they weren't tears of sadness. She stood slowly, slender fingers twisting into the fabric of her skirt as she straightened it, and nervously turned to face him. He lifted his hand up to gently brush away a tear that slowly rolled down her face.

"No one has ever defended me like that before," she whispered softly, swallowing with sorrow. "At least...I don't think they have." She frowned, her brows knit in confusion. "Have you...have you defended me before?" She questioned slowly, her breath warmly fanning across his face. His breathing quickened, and his stomach fluttered with hopeful anticipation. Was she remembering?

He gently caressed her face, tenderly running the pad of his thumb over her cheek. "What do you think, Usako?" He whispered hoarsely, his breath lodged firmly in his throat. _Remember, Usa. Remember!_

Several things flashed through the delicate blue of her eyes, an array of emotion he desperately tried to decipher. "Well, I think you're really handsome," she blurted, and her eyes widened as her blush intensified to a brighter shade of red. "Oh, gosh! I'm sorry. I just-" but he couldn't take it anymore. Her eyes were so big, her lips so _inviting,_ and everything about her emanated a vulnerable innocence that elicited every protective instinct he possessed. She was just _so fucking beautiful._

He couldn't help himself as he lowered his head, and captured her lips with his. She stood still, startled and frozen in place for only a moment, as he'd clearly surprised her. It didn't take long before she responded and reciprocated his kiss. Her movements were a little clumsy, as if this was her first time, again. He groaned against her lips as one hand cupped the back of her neck, his fingers weaving into the golden-spun strands of her hair, and the other grasped her waist, tightly holding her against him. She laid delicate hands onto his chest, her slender fingers curling enticingly into the fabric of his shirt, as she instinctively pressed her body against his.

He wondered if she could feel his heart hammering beneath her palms as she whimpered into his mouth. She tasted like the cake she'd just been eating, and he breathed in her scent, lavender and vanilla, as he deepened their kiss. He couldn't get enough of her. He missed this; missed her touch, her lips, _her._

They pulled apart breathlessly, and he tried to slow his breathing as his hands cradled her face and he gently laid his forehead against hers. It took a moment for his laboured breathing to steady, and he pulled away and tenderly peered down into her face. Her eyes were closed, but her eyelids slowly fluttered open, and her gaze met his. There was confusion written in her stare as she quietly searched his face.

She exhaled slowly, her warm breath tickling his cheeks, as she visibly swallowed. "My heart. It's beating so fast," she whispered softly, the statement filled with awe-filled confusion as if she couldn't understand why her heart would possibly be beating so quickly. "I like that a lot...Mamo-chan," she said, her lips formed around the word experimentally as if she was testing the sound of it on her tongue. He inhaled deeply, and it was like she'd knocked the wind out of him when she'd whispered his nickname. "Have we done that before?"

It took him a moment, and he carefully considered his words, as he tried to determine the best way to respond. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, a ringing sound pierced through the clearing around them. _Was that her damn watch again?_ His heart dropped as he watched in dismay as her eyes widened, filled with horror as she pried herself out of his arms.

He cursed under his breath as all of the progress he'd just made with her disappeared into a wisp along with any hope he'd had at breaking her free of whatever spell she was under. She gasped, shaking her head as she slowly stepped back. Her face had become ashen-coloured, her eyes filled with sorrowful regret, and he desperately reached for her as that damn watch persistently kept ringing.

He gritted his teeth, hell-bent on breaking it when Nephrite spoke. "Oh, you better run, bunny rabbit! You'll lose your head for sure this time!" he teased, and his eyes glinted with twinkling merriment that made him want to scream.

"Oh, no," she whispered hoarsely, flustered as she clumsily stumbled backwards. "I have to go!" She cried, and he could feel the panic begin to rise in his chest. She looked terrified, and he could feel her slipping away from him.

He reached for her, and his fingers gently wrapped around her delicate wrist, "Usako," he pleaded, "Stay." He could hear the desperation laced into his tone, the purely unfettered urgency that masked the terror he felt at the thought of losing her again, but he _didn't care_. He was _so_ close. _She was almost there!_

He could see her stop and consider it for just a brief second before Wonderland won her over again. "I can't...the Queen...I have to go!" She yelped and ripped her hand away from him. He wasn't quick enough to catch her, and she twisted her body around, and almost tripped over a chair as she flew around the table with an ungodly speed that was reminiscent of his Moon Senshi. He was having a hard time moving, and though he was ordinarily quick, it felt like his movements were purposefully made slow and sluggish; Wonderland's magic granting the bunny the speed to escape him. _What was wrong with him?_ He could hear Nephrite and Makoto giggling as he attempted to keep up, and miserably failed.

"Usako, wait! I won't let her hurt you. I-" he pleaded, his muscles tensed and coiled tightly. It felt like his lungs compressed harder the faster he tried to move. _What the hell?_

Usagi was a flurry of blonde hair and white fabric. "I'm sorry! I have to go!" She called out behind her, as she melted into the woods, and disappeared from view. The moment she was gone, the strange hold that had been clamped down on him instantly released and he'd almost made it to the tree line when Nephrite stepped into his path.

His heart was pounding, a seething rage coursing through his veins as he glared at the long-haired general in front of him. "But where are you going, friend? We still have so much more to eat!" Nephrite taunted with a white-toothed grin that Mamoru sincerely wanted to slam his fist into. Instead, he pushed the Hare violently out of the way, not even glancing back, as he barreled forward again.

This time he was stopped by Makoto, who hopped into his way, a malicious smirk splayed out on her lips. "It's very rude to leave in the middle of brunch," she said with a deliberate slowness that incited a guttural growl of frustration from his throat. Mamoru had never felt the urge to hurt any of the Senshi. His first instinct was _always_ to protect them. But right now, he'd never wanted to hurt Jupiter so much in his life. He seriously considered it for a second, his vision blurring red with rage at the edges, but he stopped short with the devastating realization that _it didn't matter._

Usagi, gifted with unnatural speed in this world, was long gone. He wouldn't be able to catch up with her now.

The realization was painful, and for a moment, he let the sorrow overtake him. His shoulders slumped, and his face fell. He'd lost her... _again._

He was momentarily numb, his breathing ragged as he peered mournfully at the spot beyond the tree line where she'd disappeared. The daunting task of navigating through Wonderland, the emotional rollercoaster of finding and losing her over and over again, and the injustice of having to be in this situation in the first place were suddenly unbearably overwhelming. They were pawns in a game he didn't understand why they were playing.

He considered himself a reasonable person, and he'd never been the type to lose his cool, even in the face of the multiple enemies they'd faced over the years. But he felt something snap inside of him. The rage was blinding, a red haze of fury that he couldn't control, and he knew he'd lost it when he spun around, grabbed the table and flipped it over. Desserts, tea, and dishes flew everywhere, crashing to the ground with a resounding crash that pierced terrifyingly through the clearing. The guests, including Luna, scattered and left him alone with Makoto and Nephrite.

He was _done_ with this world, and the gasps from the strange couple _that were supposed to be his friends_ as they broke into laughter, enraged him even more.

"Oh, Hare! I do believe brunch is over," Makoto said with exaggerated sadness. He turned to face her. His lips twisting into a hate-filled sneer as he glared at her. He hated this version of the Senshi more than any of the others.

"Such a shame," Nephrite said with mock despondency. "I was _so_ enjoying our time together," he drawled slowly before the two burst out into another bout of laughter.

His body shook with his fury, and his fingers flexed and curled into fists that he consciously needed to restrain, by pressing them firmly into his sides. _He had to go._ He didn't trust himself around these two anymore. He was going to say or do something that normally just wouldn't be in him to do. He felt like he could seriously, physically _harm them_ , and the thought disgusted him.

He forcibly swiveled around and waded through the chaos and disaster he'd created as he inhaled a shuttered breath in a desperate attempt to reign in his emotions. He was angry, frustrated, and hurt that he couldn't seem to keep up with her.

He needed to save her, to rescue _all of them_ from this hell, and he wasn't going to accomplish anything by continuously losing his damn temper. He vowed to keep it together as, without a glance backwards, he made his way toward where Usagi had gone. He cringed as Makoto and Nephrites laughter echoed behind him.

oOo

Twitch, here! I hope you guys are loving our Dreams series! This is just the first part of Wonderland. Part 2 will be coming on the 15th! Beej88 and I wrote this one together. It was truly a collaboration! And it was so much fun!

Let us know if you're liking this so far? I'm so excited to see what you guys think of this one!


	3. Chapter 2: Wonderland Pt 2

**A/N:** Hi there lovely readers! Beej88 here with the next, and final, installment of Chapter 2! What do you think of this Chapter that was co-written with Ninjette Twitch? I know we had fun writing it! Thank you for the reviews, favorites and followers so far!

We have so many dreams ( _Or nightmares, if you happen to be Mamoru)_ in store for you guys! Let us know what you think?

Also, we all have our own stories going on our own pages as well! Looking for something cute and fluffy? Check out **Ninjette Twitch's** _If you only knew_ or, are you also a Gundam Wing fan? **Revy679** has a new one called _Resurrection_. Seriously, girl is a pro at producing the feels!

Okay, well, hope you guys enjoyed out Sailor Moon version of Wonderland! Read and Review!

 **Chapter 2**

 **Wonderland Part 2**

Mamoru was still veritably angry as he made his way through the woods. He couldn't shake the feeling that blossomed uneasily in his chest as he petulantly stomped down the dirt path, and kicked at stones and loose pieces of dirt as he moved.

He couldn't believe he'd lost her _again_. Despite the various flamboyant characters that made up this _nightmare_ , he couldn't help but feel alone in Wonderland. He was done with this world; all he wanted was to find Usagi, tell her how much he loved her and _needed her._ It was daunting, but he couldn't afford to falter. He needed to get them out of here, figure out what was going on, and rescue them from whatever disembodied entity that was dabbling in whatever hell-magic this was.

His thoughts were only getting darker, and he felt himself struggling with his despondency as he pushed through the brightly-colored brush when he heard his name. "Mamoru!" the excitement-tinged tone of her voice echoed from a distance.

He turned to see Ami running down the path to catch up with him. He stopped and waited, his spirits rising as she approached, out of breath from exertion. "Mamoru, I've-" he didn't give her a chance to speak. Suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the sight of a friendly face, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug.

She froze for a moment, her body tense before she relaxed and tentatively wrapped her arms around him. It was a relief that he didn't always need to explain himself to the blue-haired Senshi of intelligence. She _was_ the smartest of the group. He knew she was aware of just how much he needed this.

 _And he did need it_. There had been so much that had happened since he'd been forced to wade through this world. He swallowed uncomfortably around the lump that had lodged into his throat; a residual effect from all of Wonderlands horrors. He'd been so _worried_ about Ami and _terrified_ for Usagi. And he was so _close_ to getting her back. _So close_. He felt unbidden tears spring to the corners of his eyes, but he held them back and tightened his hold on the bluenette instead.

After a moment, Ami spoke. "Mamoru...what's happened?" she asked delicately, her words softly spoken. He pulled away abruptly, as he furiously wiped at the unshed tears from his eyes with the palm of his hand and took a deep breath as he began to pace the path. His voice slightly shook as he recounted the events of the brunch to her. She listened attentively, and he could see the cogs of her mind turning over the information he was sending her way.

She was very quiet. When he risked glancing up at her up at her, he was dismayed to see her staring off into the distance, her eyes softened as she forlornly contemplated everything.

She was at a loss. He'd never seen that before, especially with her, and it bothered him. "Makoto…" she breathed sadly, gulping on a rare show of emotion that tugged at his heartstrings. He felt something snap inside of him, and his eyes hardened with determination. He couldn't bear to see the Water Senshi like this. He had to pull her away from whatever spiral she was currently going down.

"Ami," he said firmly, though his tone was gentle. Her head slowly turned to look at him, and her face was ashen-colored and sullen. "What did you find?"

She took a deep breath, and he could see her slowly picking herself up mentally. The delicate sadness on her face melted into a scowl and he frowned with confusion.

She scoffed, her cheeks tinged a light pink in indignation. "I didn't find anything but a bunch of rude roses!" She huffed with irritation.

His frown deepened. "Rude roses?" How on _Earth_ would a _rose_ be rude? He wondered, then inwardly sighed. This wasn't Earth. This was Wonderland! Anything could happen here.

Ami huffed and crossed her arms. "I found myself in a field full of rose bushes," she stated with disgust as she rolled her eyes.

He smiled for the first time since leaving the brunch. "That's a bad thing?" He questioned as one eyebrow lifted. She dropped her hands in frustration, and he could have _sworn_ that she'd almost stomped her foot in a very un-Ami like fashion.

He watched with amusement as she resisted the urge and stood taller, with her chin raised defensively. "Well, when they mock you for still being a caterpillar and not transforming into a butterfly, _yes_! It's a bad thing!" She rolled her eyes and averted her gaze with another haughty huff. Mamoru pressed his lips together tightly to hold back his laughter, but he couldn't help the slight chuckle that managed to emerge. Her head snapped back to him, eyes wide with indignation.

Finally, unable to help herself, she dropped her hands, propped them onto her hips, and promptly proceeded to stomp one foot. "It's _not_ funny, _Mamoru_!" She exclaimed with irritation. And It was just so _unlike_ the Senshi. As she stood there, eyes wide and filled with barely restrained irritation, dressed in that _ridiculous_ outfit, with the god awful shade of her hair. It became too much, and he couldn't take it anymore. He lost it, as he burst out into a hard, stomach-tightening, laugh. She huffed again angrily as he doubled over.

How much more _ridiculous_ could this place be? Roses that mocked people? He vaguely remembered a scene with taunting flowers in the original version of Wonderland, but when he pictured Ami, who had never seen Wonderland, as she logically tried to face off with petaled greenery… it was too much!

He couldn't breathe he was laughing so hard. "Mamoru!" she cried out with frustrated disbelief, but the look on her face was so comical that it only made him laugh harder.

As she watched the tears stream down his face, she, too, couldn't help the smile that took over. It was infectious, and she chuckled at his antics and covered her mouth with her hand. His stomach hurt, and he had to wipe the tears from his eyes. It was a relief to shed tears for a completely different reason than he had before, and he felt better with the release.

He took a deep breath to calm himself and finally looked at her. "I'm sorry, Ami," he choked through his breath that was slowly steadying. "I really am."

The bluenette sighed with exasperation, before ultimately shaking her head with a chiming giggle. "It's fine, Mamoru," she said, and her lips curled into a genuine smile.

It felt like they'd shared a moment of resolve as they both finally came to terms with their predicament, released their frustration, and steeled their determination. "Shall we go?" He nodded, grinning widely, and she nodded as they started off down the path together.

oOo

"Mamoru, I'm fairly certain that we've passed this area already."

He gritted his teeth in frustration at Ami's well-meaning statement and instantly felt guilty at the irritation that she elicited with her words. He was very well aware that they'd been going around in circles for the better part of an hour. The determination that he was forcing to the forefront of his mind was beginning to fade a little with every wrong twist he'd managed to lead them through.

He knew that Ami shared his feelings; frustrated, hungry, hopeless, and exhausted. She'd barely said a word though, her need to fill the silence with logical theories, and tentative explanations absent now, as she dutifully followed behind him. What had come next for Alice? Shouldn't the damn castle just … _appear?_ How much landscape could have _possibly_ been created in this world, and why the hell did he keep picking the _wrong way?_

He stopped, suddenly, when he felt a firm hand grasp his wrist, halting his movement forward. His calves practically screeched in protest, burning from having been on them all day, as he peered down at Ami. "Hey, let's just stop for a minute. It isn't helping to trudge forward without a plan," she said, her tone steady and filled with reassurance. Her eyes were wide, glinting with concern… _concern for him._

He inhaled deeply, then exhaled with a steadying sigh as he raked a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Ami," he murmured guiltily. He was the one with knowledge of Wonderland, after all, not her. He should be able to steer them in the right direction. "I'm not really sure where to go next," he admitted, half expecting her eyes to narrow accusingly. They didn't of course, as Ami didn't have an accusing bone in her body. She approached their predicament with a calm state of mind that he did not currently possess.

She shifted her weight, her eyes glossing over, as she tapped a slender finger on her chin. "I swear that the moment we get back to reality, I am going to read this ridiculous novel… though it doesn't quite help us now, does it?" She quietly pondered out loud.

He opened his mouth to respond when he heard a voice; one that simultaneously relieved him, and made him cringe. Aino Minako. The appointed Cheshire cat of Wonderland.

"You know… that's a very unattractive look on such a pretty little face," her giggle echoed around them as it twisted tantalizingly with the whistling sound of the breeze.

He groaned even as Ami's eyes widened, and she snapped her head around, cyan-caterpillar locks of hair twisting around her shoulders with the abrupt movement. "What was that?" she demanded, startled, as she searched the trees.

He furtively glanced up, eyebrows raised practically into his hairline when he spotted the strangely-clad blonde, whose eyes were glinting mischievously from her perch on the twisted limb of a vibrantly-colored tree. She sat in the crook of the branch and the tree trunk, her back pressed against the roughly textured bark. One of her stocking clad knees was tucked into her chest, while the other dangled off the limb, swinging back and forth in a slow, practiced movement.

He felt Ami stiffen beside him, as she inhaled sharply, and he knew that she'd spotted the Senshi of Venus. " _Minako?"_ she hissed disbelievingly.

Minako threw her head back, her giggle almost sickeningly sweet, before she pulled herself gracefully onto her feet and twisted her body in smooth, sinuous movements as she skipped along the tree branch and leapt towards the next tree.

His heart leapt into his throat, and he cringed, afraid she would stumble and fall. But, not unlike the Senshi leader that she was in her real life, the Cheshire-Minako was graceful, and she landed with ease onto another branch. "What a silly name uttered from the lips of a silly little caterpillar. Although, I suppose you're not very _little_ anymore, are you?" she teased playfully before she glanced down at them impishly.

He watched as she leveraged the give in the branch, knelt down and bounced up into the air. The branch propelled her with a loud creak that echoed in the clearing. Minako reached up, her hands catching the smaller, beam-like branch above her, and in an amazing display of grace and strength, she pulled herself up, and swung her legs over the limb, where she finally settled into a sitting position. She placed her folded hands primly in her lap and crossed her ankles that dangled mid-air above them as she peered down at them with a haughty, regal expression on her face.

Ami sputtered, disconcerted, and he realized that this was the first one of their friends that she was encountering. He squeezed her elbow in a comforting manner. "Minako is Wonderland's resident Cheshire cat," he murmured down to the bluenette. "You've seen references of the cat in different things?" he said, though he'd posed it as a hopeful question.

Ami, whose lips were pressed into a tight, grim line, nodded curtly. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was contemplating his next words to Ami when he was suddenly struck in the head by something hard. He flinched, hissing through his teeth, as his fingers shot up to rub the tender spot in his hair.

He glanced down and noted a piece of thick bark on the ground in front of him before his gaze shot back up to the sullen-faced cat with a scowl. "What was that for?" he demanded, unable to remember if the real Cheshire cat had exhibited tendencies for violence.

Minako scoffed, pursing rosy lips with an undignified huff. "I am _right_ here! I can hear you talking about me!" She snapped, but the fire in her gaze disappeared as quickly as it had been ignited to be replaced with an impish twinkle that made him nervous. "I thought you were looking for the rabbit? _That_ is the caterpillar," she said and pointed a slender finger towards Ami accusingly. "The rabbit is much sweeter, I think. You are a tad bit rough around the edges these days, caterpillar," she giggled, and Ami gasped. "I guess the beholder only beholds the ugly! If you don't mind me saying!" She guffawed, and he didn't bother to correct that mangled proverb, unwilling to banter with the unreasonable cat.

Ami, on the other hand, had no such qualms. "I _do_ mind, _actually!"_ She hissed under her breath, her body tensed, and her cheeks tinged red with embarrassed irritation. "You ridiculous little-" he clamped a hand around her arm, promptly interrupting her. She glanced up at him, her expression quietly seething, but she seemed to calm when he shook his head and offered her an apologetic smile.

She clamped her lips shut and crossed her arms in silence as he glanced back up at Minako. "I'm looking for the Queen of Hearts. Do you know where I can find her?" he asked carefully. His tone soft and pleading.

Minako's eyes narrowed as she seemed to consider his request for a moment. A brilliant smile curled onto her lips. "Some go this way. Some go that way. But as for me, myself, personally, I prefer the short cut," she said merrily. He deflated, sighing with irritation at the familiar statement. Was there going to be _anything_ that came just a little bit easy here?

Ami scoffed, "Let's go, Mamoru. She doesn't know anything," she snapped, as she grasped his wrist and pulled him forward.

He heard Minako gasp with indignation, and there was a flurry of gold fabric and swirling blonde hair as she leapt into the air, and with a mass of rippling lace, landed in front of them with a scowl on her face. "If you had _let_ me finish! So _rude_ to interrupt people!" she huffed, propping curled fists onto her hips. "I was _going_ to say… Some go this way. Some go that way. But as for me, myself, personally, I prefer the shortcut …" she paused for dramatic effect, then swept an arm behind her, gesturing to a small hidden path. "Which, you know, is _totally_ right there! _Jeez,_ Caterpillar! Open your eyes!" She exclaimed then turned back toward Mamoru.

With a sad sigh, she shook her head. "Well, I guess there is no accounting for _taste,"_ she giggled, furtively glancing at Ami who sputtered with disbelief. He grimaced uncomfortably, not quite sure _what_ to say when Minako tisked, wagged a finger in the air with a wiggle of her eyebrows. "You know what they say now. Quick and fast wins the race. Better hurry before the bunny rabbit _loses,"_ she said slowly, a chime of tinkling laughter spilling from her lips as she faded at the edges, before disappearing altogether.

They stood in shocked silence for a moment, before Ami shook her head. "Mamoru!" she choked, in disbelief.

He nodded with a grimace. "I know, Ami," he whispered firmly. He _did_ know. It was disconcerting to see her like that… though probably more so for Ami, as he already found Venus to be a tad bit overbearing.

With a strangled cry, Ami tore away from him and began to stomp towards the hidden pathway. She glanced over her shoulder, a furious look in her gaze. "Well? Are you coming?" she demanded. He snapped out of his daze and scrambled after her. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard her mutter under her breath.

"We need to get the _hell_ out of here."

Even though it mirrored the same thought he'd had many times, it was disconcerting to hear it from Ami. Wonderland did _strange_ things to sane people.

oOo

As they headed in the direction Minako had pointed them in, he wondered what he would do when they found Rei. Honestly, he was a little surprised she hadn't found him first. Maybe, she was just as lost in this world just as they were. If that was the case, he hoped that she'd just stayed in her castle and waited for _him_ to find _her._ He didn't know what he was going to do if they got to the castle only to discover that she was stumbling around somewhere searching for him.

The thought made him shudder with dread as they continued carefully down the pathway. Their steps quickened with excited anticipation as the trees began to thin out, and the narrowed pathway widened and opened up into a vast clearing. What had been a hazy, stoned outline on the horizon slowly cleared and came into view. It was a castle, no, _the_ castle, and his breath caught in his throat, and his heart skipped a beat as they moved towards it.

It was exactly what you would expect a castle from a fantasy world to look like. Immense in size, towering in height, and perched on a small bluff that overlooked acres of land - a courtyard - that was lined with tall, thick green hedges that rolled along the properties edge for what seemed like miles. The castle itself was made up of a multitude of sand-coloured rounded stone towers, with red-tiled spires that scraped against the sky and were placed in a seemingly haphazard manner. It was completely surrounded by tall curtain walls, that protected the bailey. Ominous turrets, for added fortification, built into the stone edging.

Mamoru glanced down at Ami, who was sporting an awestruck expression, as she stared up at the castle with wide eyes. She turned to him, a small smile curled onto her lips and her eyes shining with excitement. "We're almost there, Mamoru," she said, her tone laced with relief. His face broke into a wide grin that was also filled with relief. _It was true._ He could practically see the end of the road from here!

He could see it now, an image of the scene that would play out flashing through his mind. They would walk in, and Rei would roll her eyes, snort impatiently and tell him, with a disapproving tone, that it was 'about time you got here!' She would lead him to Usagi, and he'd convince his wide-eyed, blonde-haired bunny that she did, in fact, love him. Then this would all be over, and he could get them out of here.

His heart began to pound nervously within the cavity in his chest, and his breathing quickened. _He couldn't wait to end this._

His smile widened. "You ready?" he asked, unable to hide his excitement. Her smile broadened, and she nodded quickly. He grinned and picked up his pace, Ami right beside him.

They hurried along, their strides hasty, as they made their way down the path together. The anticipation of finishing this dream drove them forward until the castle loomed above them.

He stumbled through the foliage and turned the last corner of the strangely hedged garden labyrinth and exhaled a sigh of relief. _They'd managed to find Rei._ Something was off though, and it triggered red flagged alarms inside of him.

His brow furrowed, and he held out an arm to stop Ami from continuing on. Rei had been dubbed the Queen of Hearts for this nightmare, and he knew, without a doubt, that the Shinto priestess was probably appalled by her ridiculous outfit. It was the closest that they'd come to recreating an outfit that mirrored the Alice in Wonderland version, though Rei, admittedly, wore it much better.

She actually looked kind of regal in a floor-length, black chevron patterned gown, with enormous satin-shaped hearts sewn down the front of it. Over the gown, she wore a silk floor length trench coat, edged in red velvet with a popped collar in the same crimson material. Her sleeves were black lace, etched with swirling intricate designs that encased slender arms.

Her ebony colored hair was twisted up onto her head, the strands carefully crafted so that they weaved through an ornate and overly pretentious golden grown, the tips of the headpiece holding up ghastly looking stone hearts.

His frown deepened though, at the expression on her face. Her red-painted lips, pressed into a grim, angry line, and purple irises that were narrowed, concentrating on a ball that she was about to hit with a mallet. Rei was _actually_ playing croquet.

She wasn't alone, beside her stood a tall man with short cropped hair, russet-colored, with a gaudy golden crown that mirrored Rei's. The man... _king_...playing croquet with her...was that… it was _Jadeite?_ His outfit was just as gaudy as the rest of them. How anyone could manage a regal expression wearing a high-necked, black pleated shirt with red hearts, and intricate gold-spun needle worked designs, threaded down the front, was beyond him. To top off the ridiculous outfit, Jadeite was sporting a red velvet _cape_ edged in white satin trimming.

It was a bizarre sight, and he wondered if Rei's current disposition was because of the ostentatiously dressed general that had been a lawyer in the previous nightmare. Was Jadeite the reason Rei hadn't come searching for him?

With a furtive glance toward Ami, he cleared his throat and started slowly in their direction. His heart hammered in his chest, and his stomach flipped a couple of times as they neared the couple. Rei straightened suddenly, sensing his approach, and she turned her head, craning a slender neck to look at them. Her eyes flashed dangerously, and her lips curled into a sneer.

Mamoru's heart immediately dropped into his stomach, and he felt the blood drain from his face. Dammit! _There was no recognition in her eyes_. She had _no idea_ who he was. She wasn't awake.

He felt as though he had been punched in the stomach, the wind knocked out of his sails. This whole dream...this whole _fucking nightmare_...he'd believed that she was awake; that she would help him find Usagi and put an end to this _hell_ they were all in!

As Queen Rei made her way toward them, her angry head held high, he heard Ami muttering beside him. "Well...it appears that there are specific parameters to this whole dream concept. Maybe there's only one of us that can break out at a time? I wish I could access my minicomputer to analyze the data! It's so fascinating! The sheer amount of energy that would have needed to have been utilized is..."

He stared at the bluenette in wide-eyed disbelief. "Ami!" He spat, thoroughly annoyed. He was _not_ in the mood for her logic right now.

The Senshi winced at his tone. "Sorry," she murmured, a blush creeping up into her cheeks.

Their attention was brought back to the ebony-haired Queen. "Who are you?" She demanded angrily, a sneer curled onto her face. His gaze met Rei's, and her aura was menacing as she arched an eyebrow, a delicate hand poised on her hip. Mamoru opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't seem to find the words. It seems he'd been thrown a curveball. What else would this world throw at him now?

"Your Majesty," Ami interjected with a slight, graceful bow. He was eternally grateful, at that moment, that Ami had the good sense to step in when she'd noted that he was at a complete loss. "We're visitors, and we're sorry to intrude on your game. We saw your beautiful castle in the distance and wanted to meet the ruler of this exquisite land," she whispered, lacing just the right amount of submissive awe into her tone. Mamoru was definitely impressed as he studied Rei's expression. Her face lost some tension, and she preened regally as she enjoyed the praise she was receiving. "We've met many of your patrons along the way who have all recounted the wonders of this Wonderland and their Queen."

Mamoru inwardly blanched as Ami riddled off compliments to the queen they'd heard nothing but awful things about. He understood what she was doing. She was winning Rei over; trying to make a great first impression. _This was good._ Maybe there was a chance that this version of the Queen of Hearts would actually help them find Usagi.

Rei's eyes coiled into a malicious grin as her purple irises swept over them darkly. "Well, it's good to have visitors who so obviously know the power of my generosity," she smirked, and Mamoru's stomach turned again. "Would you two enjoy a round of croquet with my king and myself?"

His first inclination was to say _hell no_ and run. This version of the fire Senshi _terrified_ him to no end. Ami, though, was determined. "That would be quite enjoyable," the bluenette replied with a pleasant smile. Rei twisted around gracefully and waltzed back toward the game. Ami gave Mamoru a side glance, and he knew what she was silently saying. They had to play nice if they wanted to get any information of out Rei or the King, who's remained silent, but watchful thus far.

As they walked, he looked around for any sign of his bunny. He needed to find out where she was. Maybe she was in the castle? His eyes narrowed as he contemplated his next move. It was clear he wouldn't be getting the help from Rei that he'd been hoping for, _relying on,_ this entire dream. But maybe she could give him some kind of insight as to where the bunny-clad blonde was.

"So, my Queen," he started as they reached the croquet ball and Rei handed him a mallet. "I've seen the White Rabbit randomly throughout our time here in Wonderland." Rei's smile faded, and she rolled her eyes. "I was just curious to know if she'd made it back here in time," he questioned tentatively.

Rei sighed as she picked up her own croquet mallet. "The rabbit has always been a thorn in my side. Perhaps it is high time that I disposed of her," she said in such a nonchalant tone, as she hit the croquet ball, that it made both him and the bluenette beside him tense.

He looked over at Ami to see she'd gone a little pale. With a slight clearing of her throat and a nod of her head in the direction of the game, she signalled for him that it was his turn. He moved hastily to the ball, which lay in the grass just out of earshot from the others. The truth was, he'd never played croquet before. The concept seemed fairly simple though, and he considered himself a quick learner.

With the tip of his tongue poised between his teeth and his eyes narrowed in concentration, he lifted the mallet and made to hit the ball, but fumbled at the sound of a familiar giggle beside him.

He inhaled sharply, glancing to his left for the source of the giggle he now knew belonged to Minako. He found her, blue eyes peering out from in between the brambles and branches of the hedge.

His fingers tightened around the mallet as he promptly proceeded to attempt and ignore her. "Go away, Minako," he hissed under his breath. What would the Queen of Hearts do if he messed this up?

Minako tsked loudly, her lips smacking together in an annoying manner that made him grit his teeth. "What are you doing?" she purred enticingly. "You're wasting your time with this lame game, you know," she whispered tauntingly, and his heart clenched in his chest.

"Is there a reason for your delay, visitor?" The low, irritated baritone belonged to Jadeite that called out to him with impatience.

He swiftly glared at Minako, before turning back to the glaring monarchs. "No delay! Just.. lining up the ball!" he called out. Minako giggled again, and the sound was seriously beginning to grate on his nerves.

He moved to hit the ball, once again, but Minako wasn't having it. "You know, I saw the rabbit, just before you came here," she murmured slowly, each syllable enunciated with the sole purpose of capturing his attention. Which she had effectively managed, as he fumbled with the mallet at the mention of Usagi. "You know, she seems pretty important to you! It's a shame that the rabbit is not as innocent as she seems," Minako's tone was goading now, and he knew that the cat was trying to get a rise out of him.

He shook his head and lifted the mallet again, poised to hit the ball. "You know, I heard from the flowers - they totally like to gossip - that the rabbit was last seen, totally lip-locked with one of the Tweedles? Isn't that just _fascinating?_ You know what they say about bunnies and dividing…" she murmured then stopped with a frown, "You know. I might have actually gotten that saying wrong…. It's multiplying isn't it?" She purred, and he couldn't help but stare at the mischievous version of Minako that he knew was just trying to cause trouble.

 _Of course, she was._ He'd met the little bunny that was his Usako in this world, and she was wide-eyed, naive and thoroughly innocent. But his frustration with this nightmare, paired with his disappointment at discovering that Rei was not who she should be, made him lose his temper.

"That's it!" Mamoru yelled, startling everyone. Beside the Queen, Ami's eyes widened, and she shook her head quickly. "I'm tired of this stupid game! All I want to know is where the White Rabbit is!" And with a hot-tempered kick, he launched the croquet ball into the air.

They all watched as the ball flew across the field, hitting a can of paint that was precariously perched on a ladder step stool. The bucket tipped, and he watched in horror, as if in slow motion, as the white paint went flying, and coated the red roses in ivory.

He cringed, "Shit," Mamoru muttered, and he couldn't help the feeling of dread that coursed through his body. _He'd messed it up this time._

Slowly, Rei turned to them, her face twisted and distorted into a look of pure, unadulterated rage. "Those...were my favorite...roses!" She hissed through her teeth, her body tightly coiled, and her eyes blazing with fury.

Mamoru grabbed Ami, protectively pulling her behind him as they both took a step back. "You ruined...my favorite...ROSES!" She screamed her hands in tightly clenched fists at her sides. "OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!" She cried out at the top of her lungs.

He remembered this part from Alice _very clearly._ "Run!" Mamoru yelled, and swivelled around quickly, pushing Ami with him. From out of the winding hedge, men in outfits that mirrored Jadeites, but to a lesser degree, appeared with spears. _There were too many of them._ They'd never get out of here...at least, not both of them.

From behind, he could hear Rei screaming about their heads over and over again. With his heart racing, Mamoru stopped. He knew what he needed to do. If he could distract the guards just long enough, Ami could get away. Ami noticed, skidded to a halt and turned to face him.

Her facial features were contorted into a look of terror. "Mamoru!" she yelled, and he could hear the fear in her voice. He knew that she didn't know much about Wonderland, but Ami was smart, and this was the only way.

His eyes were filled with determination when he met her gaze. "Ami! Go! We'll both be caught if we keep running together. But you, of all people, can figure out another way to get us out of here. Now, go! Please!" He begged, his tone tinged with desperation. He couldn't bear to have her captured too.

Her eyes glanced over his shoulder toward the approaching guards, and she bit her lip nervously. She looked back to him, and he watched the internal struggle that flashed over her face, as tears of horror pooled painfully in her eyes. Just in the nick of time, she nodded. "I'll get help. I'll come back!" She promised hoarsely.

He nodded curtly, and gently pushed her away. "Go!" He said softly. She nodded, and gracefully twisted around to run out of the maze of hedges. He held his breath until she disappeared; a vibrant blue that melted into the green foliage of the forest on the horizon. His stomach dropped as he watched her go, sorrow brimming painfully in his chest. This was _his_ fault. He'd stupidly let Minako goad him, and lost his temper which had thrust them into this mess.

He closed his eyes, thoroughly resigned, as he waited for the guards to approach. They tackled him to the ground, and he grunted, wincing at the sharp pain that tore up his arm with the fall. They pinned his arms behind his back and forcefully hoisted him back up.

They were not gentle as they pushed and prodded him back into the clearing to stand in front of Rei. "My Queen!" another guard that followed called out. He grunted as one of the guards sharply kicked him behind his legs, effectively bringing him to his knees. "The Caterpillar has escaped!" He knew she'd made it safely away. He'd watched her go, but still. He wasn't sure how far they would pursue her, and he couldn't help the sigh of relief at the guard's words.

He heard the Senshi of Fire approach and held his head high as her snarling face peered down at him, disgust laced in her eyes. "He's the one I want, anyway. Take him away," she hissed furiously.

He inhaled sharply, glaring angrily at the guard that forcibly yanked him to his feet, and roughly pulled him back towards the castle.

oOo

This was just ridiculous! _A trial?_ For spilling some paint on some flowers?! What kind of world was this? Well...this _was_ the kind of world where roses were rude, and you grew from eating a cookie crumb…

Mamoru sat in a chair in the middle of a ridiculously over exaggerated courtroom. The seats were too big; the stand he sat on too high; the "jury" full of guards. With his chin in his hands, he studied his surroundings and tried to determine the best way to get out of here.

His gaze fell onto the 'Queen' - _though he honestly doubted her validity at his point-_ who sat, all high and mighty, in a pretentious golden throne. "We're having this trial," Rei's voice rang out around the courtroom in an aggravated tone, "because my _idiot_ husband," she glared at Jadeite, who gave her an easy grin, "has decided he wants to play court!" She turned back to the courtroom. "Let the trial commence!"

One of the many guards who'd captured him entered the room, a silly overly big white wig perched upon his head. He stopped in front of Rei and Jadeite, at the head of the courtroom atop their intricately designed set of chairs.

He unfurled a rolled up paper and cleared his throat dramatically. "The accused is hereby charged with intentionally destroying the Queen's roses, covering them in….white paint!" He paused for effect and the whole courtroom "ooooo" ed like he'd just been sent to the principal's office. Mamoru rolled his eyes and shook his head. _Ridiculous!_

He was thoroughly finished with Wonderland and all of its inhabitants. "I'm sorry, but you do realize you can just plant new roses, right?" Mamoru said with exasperation. Rei's eyes snapped onto him, purple irises blazing hotly, and rage emanating from her whole body.

"Silence!" She demanded furiously, and her shrill voice boomed loudly throughout the room. He sighed and dropped his head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before straightening in his seat and looking back over the crowd. Where was Usagi?! He hadn't seen her at all since he'd arrived at the castle. And after meeting the Queen and realizing how _truly awful_ she really was, he worried for his bunny. He had to get out of here.

"Do you have anything to say before we cut off your head?" Jadeite asked, the inflection in his tone tinged with mock-sadness, an indication that he was more amused by the proceedings rather than horrified. He froze at the King's words, which had been said pretty lightly considering the _content_ of the question _._ What the hell?

Mamoru's eyes widened. "Cut off my head? What kind of trial _is_ this? Don't I even get a defense?!" He couldn't believe this! What was the point of even having this damn "trial" if -

"Of course you get a defense!" Came a voice from the back of the courtroom. His head turned to see Ami waltzing in, an entourage of Wonderland characters at her heels. Behind her entered Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum - Kunzite and Zoisite. Behind them was The Mad Hatter and the March Hare - Makoto and Nephrite. Luna trailed at their feet, and he'd never been so relieved to see them all. Even as the strange Wonderland characters they'd been forced to play.

He felt the muscles in his back and shoulders relax with sheer relief. Ami _had_ gotten away. And she'd come back with help, just like she said she would. Part of him was upset. She shouldn't have come back; _shouldn't_ be risking herself like this. But there was another part that would always be infinitely grateful. His heart swelled as she gave him a small smile and a curt nod.

"What is the meaning of this!" Rei demanded, her tone dark and menacing. She quickly uncoiled her slender form and grasped the golden hand rests as she leveraged them to stand up from her chair.

"Your Majesty," Ami spoke gently but forcefully. "The alleged crime committed by the defendant may not have been in the best interest of the court, but it was indeed an accident. I've brought subjects from your own kingdom to attest to this man's character, so you will see that he acted without malicious intent," Ami's gaze briefly met his, and she offered him a reassuring smile, before turning back to Rei. "He just lost his temper," she said, with a rueful shrug.

Mamoru shook his head, inwardly chuckling in amazed disbelief. He'd always known how brilliant the Senshi was, but she still surprised him sometimes with the eloquent way with which she spoke. She could be a lawyer if she truly wanted to be.

The Queen did not agree with his internal musings, apparently, because her eyes darkened dangerously. "I will not be made a mockery of," she growled but was silenced by a light touch to her hand from her king. Jadeite smiled in her direction, and Rei huffed haughtily, slowly sitting back down as he stood.

"This is a curious turn of events. We don't usually have a collective of our subjects ban together for one person. I'm interested to see how this plays out," he grinned playfully. "Caterpillar, you have me intrigued. Please, make your case," he gestured to an empty seat in the middle of the courtroom. The guards that were acting as the audience all leaned into each other, muttering in hushed whispers.

This was all just _so_ dramatic.

Jadeite sat down with a grin and Mamoru couldn't help but roll his eyes and sit back in his chair with his arms crossed. _This should be good._

The Tweedles were up first. They looked around expectantly, and a guard appeared out of nowhere with an extra chair, setting it down beside the other one.

He watched with dismay as the suave brothers seated themselves, and leant back in their chairs, rakish grins curled onto their lips. Zoisite's eyes flashed merrily, and Kunzites firmly hardened as he stared ahead.

Ami opened her mouth to speak, and he noted that she faltered for a moment as her gaze briefly fell onto Zoisite, a pink tinge creeping up her face and spreading across her cheeks. His heart clenched at the sight. _Aw, damn._ She was facing the man that she'd loved, who, for all intents and purposes, should not be alive right now, for the very first time. He shook his head sadly. He wouldn't blame her if she couldn't pull this off.

He was trying to think of another way out this, when Ami cleared her throat, stiffened her stance, and spoke. "Tweedle Dee, Tweedle Dum," she glanced over at the monarchs. "They've been offered height inducing crumbs for the purposes of today's trial, your majesties," she introduced to a sullen-faced Rei and a curious Jadeite, before turning back to the subjects in question. "Can you please tell me your thoughts on the defendant?" She asked softly, and he was proud of her. Her voice only broke once as her gaze passed over Zoisite.

Zoisite chuckled darkly, as he peered over at Mamoru before his eyes fell back onto Ami. "Ah! You want to know about the visitor!" he exclaimed, and there was a dark edge to his tone that made Mamoru cringe. "Well, we like visitors! We asked him to stay, but he was too busy," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "Isn't that right, brother?" he questioned and quirked his eyebrow to the silver-haired general who quickly returned his grin.

Kunzite's gaze was piercing as he stared up at Ami, who was now shifting nervously. "Yes, such a _busy_ traveller didn't even care about the fate of the oysters!" he said with an indignant bark of laughter.

The onlookers of the courtroom whispered harshly, and he grimaced. _What is your plan here, Ami?_ Because, if the gleeful look on Rei's face was any indication, this was not going well.

Ami considered them for a moment, her frown melting away as it appeared she'd had an epiphany. "You said that you liked visitors?" she questioned softly, and the tweedles exchanged a confused look.

Zoisite smiled warmly, and Ami visibly shuddered. "Why, yes, pretty little caterpillar. We love visitors," he murmured softly, his gaze raking over her with a wolfish grin. His breath hitched in his throat. _God, poor Ami._

Her face reddened an unbecoming crimson shade of red. "So- so," she faltered, then took a deep cleansing breath. "So wouldn't it stand to reason that you like the defendant? As you wanted him to stay?" she questioned, her voice rising an octave. He thought she was grasping at threads. It was a weak argument, but the Tweedle brothers exchanged disconcerted looks.

Kunzite nodded, "Yes, I suppose you could say that," his eyes met Mamoru's for a moment, and his grin was ferociously dark. "He would have surely made a wonderful addition to our forest of visitors," he stated, and the cold aura around the General of darkness made him cringe.

It was silent for a moment, and Ami cleared her throat once more. "Thank you Tweedles, that's everything," she whispered hoarsely.

The Tweedles stood together from their chairs, and with synchronized movements, melted back into the crowd.

Mamoru internally groaned as Makoto and Nephrite were the next to step forward. His meeting with these two had ended with him flipping their table and wreaking havoc on their brunch. He wondered why they were even here. There was no way they were going to talk him up.

Makoto gracefully flitted to her seat, her arms splayed dramatically at her sides. Nephrite grinned, taking the chair next to her with a plop.

"Please," Ami commanded. "Tell us your thoughts on the defendant." Mamoru cringed nervously. _This was not going to go well._

"Oh, he is so much fun," Makoto cheered with a gleeful smile. "We haven't had a brunch quite like that before!" she said, with a slightly crazed chuckle.

The hare's resounding laughter mirrored Makoto's. "And he's _very_ protective of the little white rabbit, right Hatty?" Nephrite said jokingly. Mamoru grit his teeth and he could feel his blood boil as he recalled the awful things her previous "friends" had said to her. _Damn right he'd been protective!_ He had to forcibly remind himself that this was not their fault, but it was difficult. Usagi hadn't deserved what they'd done to her.

Makoto smiled. "Oh, yes! It's true he has _quite_ the temper!" She chuckled, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Especially when it comes to _her_. All my poor cakes...ruined!" Makoto was clearly not upset as she let out a loud cackle. _They're enjoying this!_ He thought with disgust, and Mamoru groaned as he raked his hand over his face miserably and leaned back in his chair. _This was a disaster._ "But he did so enjoy our delights," she added, almost as an afterthought.

The hare nodded. "Hatty is the best of bakers. Her brunches are exquisite!" Nephrite bragged. "We would share them with all of you, but unfortunately they are scattered on the grassy floor!" They both roared in laughed, and Mamoru shook his head with an irritated scowl.

"He was very polite in the beginning, especially when he saw the little bunny enjoying some cake," Makoto gave an over exaggerated wink, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively before turning to Nephrite. Mamoru tensed in the chair as she held out an imaginary piece of cutlery and Nephrite leaned over, imitating how Mamoru had eaten the cake off of Usagi's fork. He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat as he watched Ami's eyes widen.

Then, to his horror, the two brunchers leaned toward each other, stopped an inch apart and mimicked an overactive makeout session, complete with tongues hanging out of their mouths and loud slurping noises. Ami's wide eyes turned to him accusingly, and he couldn't help the embarrassed heat that spread over his face as he shrugged sheepishly. He'd purposely left out their kiss when recounting the story to Ami earlier.

She shook her head with a huff before turning back to the couple, who were now laughing so hard they were barely able to catch their breaths. Ami opened her mouth to speak when she was interrupted by a chiming giggle.

It was _that_ giggle. The one that he had now come to dread more than any other sound in this whole godforsaken world, and he couldn't help the groan of despondency that rumbled in his throat. _Not Minako._ The stupid cat was the reason for his situation in the first place.

She appeared suddenly, perched on a beam above the courtrooms doorway. "Wow!" she exclaimed and twisted her legs beneath her so that she was kneeling on her haunches. She gleefully clapped her hands. "This is way more fun to watch than a silly croquet game!" she exclaimed, thoroughly amused. "Say, Red Queen. Did you know that he's not actually here _for you?"_ She prodded, and the courtroom burst into a cacophony of hushed whispers of disapproval.

Rei, her pride, purposefully piqued, turned a petulant shade of red. "I tire of this insolence!" the Queen sneered as she stood, and commanded the attention of the room. She received it as everyone had been effectively silenced and all eyes fell on her. "This man _will_ be punished for his actions! I will not tolerate being made a mockery of! Guards!" She yelled, her shrill tone inducing a wince from everyone in the room. Three guards jumped to their feet, surrounded him and pulled him up from his seat, their fingers bruising as they grasped him by the arms. The blood drained from his face with the realization that they'd lost, and there was a very real possibility that he was going to _die_ here. He struggled against them with renewed vigor as they pulled him to a door at the side of the cavernous courtroom.

He managed a swift kick or two, but it was no use, and his throat constricted with regret as his gaze fell onto Ami. "Mamoru!" The bluenette cried out mournfully, her hands outstretched toward him, and her eyes wide and filled with sorrow. He could see it clearly etched into the contours of her face. She thought she'd failed him. He shook his head, still struggling against his captors, as he tried to convey to the Senshi that it wasn't the least bit true. She'd managed to wade through the horrors of Wonderland on her own. He was so grateful that she'd brought all of these characters to speak in his defence. She _had_ to know that he didn't blame her. Not at all.

He opened his mouth, searching for the right words to comfort her from across the room, when suddenly there was a resounding crash that reverberated, and effectively distracted everyone. The doors burst open, and his breath hitched in his throat. There was Usagi, flustered, adorably frazzled as she struggled to catch her breath. It was clear to everyone that she'd been running.

"Mamo-chan!" She cried out, and his stomach flipped at the sweet sound of his name on her lips. The sun shone in from behind her, enshrouding her like an aura of brilliance. An ethereal vision in ruffled lace, and the big, bright blue eyes that took his breath away. She was here. She was _really_ here!

"Usako," he breathed hoarsely. He longed to pull her into his arms, and show her just how much he'd missed her since the Makoto-Hatters brunch; how much he'd missed her since the nightmares began!

She rushed into the room, and he smiled lovingly as she stumbled clumsily, before skidding to a halt before the queen. He couldn't breathe as he watched his fiercely strong warrior princess _shrink_ vulnerably in front of her. It made his stomach churn, and his heart race with terror as he watched Rei look down at her in disgust. "Well, well, well. Look who has _finally_ decided to grace us with her presence. Where have you been, Rabbit?"

He shook with rage as he watched her beautiful face pale with fear. "I'm so sorry, my queen," Usagi pleaded with remorse, wringing her hands nervously. "I'm so terribly late. But I must tell you, your majesty, please, you cannot kill this man!" Rei's eyes widened before narrowing with a rage that filled him with dread. _No, Usako._ Fear consumed him as he watched Rei, who'd gone rigid with anger, slowly and deliberately make her way down the stairs to Usagi.

"Usako, don't," he pleaded hoarsely as he strained against the guards that were still holding him back. She didn't listen, her eyes were wide, and glistening with a bright-eyed innocence that ripped at his heart as she spoke to her infuriated queen.

Usagi blushed as she looked at him, and remembered their various encounters. "Oh, please, your Majesty," she implored softly and turned her big eyes back onto Rei. "He's been nothing but kind to me. I know I'm often late-" the onlookers in the room laughed mockingly at her statement, and her stricken expression infuriated him. She swallowed nervously before determinedly continuing. "He's helped me at every turn, tried to get me here on time. He defended me when I was being attacked, and he's so- so kind," she stammered, her eyes soft as she turned back to the queen who was now standing directly in front of her.

His muscles were coiled so tightly he thought they might snap as he watched the terrified love of his life face down the dark and horrible version of the fire Senshi. Usagi gasped as Rei's breathing became heavy with rage as she glared down at the trembling bunny.

Through gritted teeth, Rei spoke with a quietness that chilled him to the bone. "How dare you defy me." And before he could even blink, the queen raised her gloved hand, bringing it down hard onto Usagi's cheek. The sound of the slap resonated throughout the room, and the impact was forceful enough to send Usagi flying, where she fell with a sickening crunch to the cold stone floor.

He'd promised her that he wouldn't let the Queen hurt her. _He'd promised._ His body began to quake with rage as he watched her struggle to her knees, whimpering softly, a white-gloved hand clutching at her face. He _never_ wanted to see her like this again.

The dam of emotion within him broke.

His growl was guttural, "Bitch!" Mamoru cried out and broke free from the guards hold in a rush of adrenaline and pure unadulterated rage. Chaos broke out in the courtroom as the guards tackled him before he could make it more than a few steps. He hit the ground hard and looked up to see that Usagi was watching him in terror.

"Mamo-chan," she mouthed to him, tears streaming down her face and a red handprint already visible on her cheek. His heart broke at the sight. What was he going to do now? How was he going to save her?

"Take him to the dungeon," the Fire Senshi growled out through gritted teeth.

The pressure in his chest was unbearable, and he felt like he couldn't breathe. It didn't help that there were quite a few armed guards on top of him at the moment. He couldn't take his eyes from hers as they dragged him to his feet. The roaring of the crowd around him drowned out the sound of anything, yet he still heard her whispered apology as they pulled him from the courtroom and down winding steps into the dark bowels of the castle.

oOo

As far as dungeons went, he supposed that it could be worse. He liked historical documentaries, so he was very well versed in what a medieval dungeon was _supposed_ to look like. Luckily, Wonderlands beauty extended to its criminals. As, even though the small cell that he'd been unceremoniously shoved into was sparse and cold, it wasn't the dank terrifying torture chamber he'd half-expected from the spiteful Queen of Hearts.

He didn't have very much room to move, but there _was_ a place to sit. Though it was only a gaudy, heart-shaped, iron-wrought bench, whose thin legs twisted and curled over the sandstone floors and intermingled with the thick bars, it was pressed up against.

With a sigh of frustration, he fell onto the bench and cringed at the cool, sharp texture that grazed his back. He raked a hand across his face, before leaning forward and propping his elbows onto his knees and burying his face into his hands. He could only hope that Ami could somehow discover a way to rescue him… and if not, at least get herself and the others out of here. He clenched his eyes shut and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. Wasn't there another way?

He was lost, drowning in his dark internal musings of dismay when a rustling sound pulled him out of his thoughts. His head snapped up, the movement so abrupt he was sure he'd pulled a tightly coiled muscle that was threaded into his neck. He frowned and peered into the darkness beyond the cell's bars.

His breath hitched in his throat as the noise got louder, the bars dinging and vibrating as if something was being run along them. There was a _giggle_ , and he exhaled the breath he'd been holding with disappointment. _Minako._ She was the bane of his existence here.

He leaned back in the bench and crossed his arms with a scowl on his face. "Minako," he snapped, the baritone of his voice harsh and condemning. He was _done_ playing games with the sleek-haired blonde of Wonderland. "Show yourself!" he growled angrily, his tone harsher than he'd intended.

It did not faze the cat, however, because she appeared with a wide grin on her face, as she stood, for once, completely still in front of the cell. "I don't really think that you're in a position to make demands," she purred, her words pronounced slowly with teasing deliberate syllables. "Looks like you're in quite the predicament!" She exclaimed with a light-hearted chuckle.

He watched, disconcerted, as she leaned forward, and wrapped slender fingers around the bars, an amused expression curling onto her face. "Don't despair, though. You have nine lives, don't you?" she questioned, tilting her head to the side in an overdramatic gesture that sent blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head with exasperation. "Cats have nine lives," he snapped through gritted teeth, only deigning to respond because she was irritating and her mangled proverbs were grating on his nerves.

Her eyes widened in mock-surprise as she pulled away from the bars, and with an elegant twist of her body, she twirled along the floor and grazed her fingers playfully along the bars before coming to a stop in front of him.

He leaned back, flinching away from her wide white-toothed grin that peered down at him, enshrouded by the darkness. She cocked her body to the side, propped a delicate hand on her waist and slowly tapped a finger on her chin. Her expression a strange mixture between amused and pondering. "I don't think that's right," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. "If that's true, and I have nine lives, then why on earth am I so careful?" She mused out loud, then straightened her body, and clapped her hands with another chiming giggle. "Look at me! Curious just like you! Just like the rabbit," she murmured merrily then twisted her body again and skipped along the stone floor. Her figure melting into the darkness.

He watched her, slack-jawed, in disbelief and frustration. He hated the way his friends had been turned into strange, twisted versions of Wonderland characters from a book; that he was, quite frankly, beginning to consider deeply rooted in the horror genre. "You're crazy," he said through a bark of disbelieving laughter because it was the first thing that popped into his head and it was all he could manage right now.

Minako froze in her strange sinuous movements, and when her head snapped up and her gaze met his the amusement was gone. It was the first time he'd seen a true flash of anger in the Minako-Cheshire cat.

She slowly tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed indignantly as she considered him. The edges of her form were beginning to fade, and he was sure that he'd finally won; that she would disappear without a word.

He was wrong of course, and Minako met his gaze with the steadiest, _sanest,_ look that he'd seen on her face since he'd arrived here. "I'm not crazy," she purred. "My reality is just different than yours," she quipped. Then with a final wink, Minako disappeared.

The silence with her departure was deafening, and with a sigh of despair, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the strangely crafted iron bench. It was easy to wallow. Especially here, with seemingly no visible way out.

He was contemplating the possibility of Ami staging an elaborate escape when they took him back out for his execution when he heard the rustling again. Minako. The cat-Senshi was _such a pain._

He let out a long drawn out sigh of exasperation. "Get lost," he practically growled, his tone harsh and filled with irritation.

"I'm so sorry. I'll go."

He tensed, and his eyes flew open at the soft musical lilt that did not belong to the impish cat, but to the sweet rabbit that he'd spent all of this time chasing. He inhaled sharply as his gaze fell onto Usako, who stood nervously in front of his cell. Her posture was still, terror clearly reflected in the hue of big eyes that glistened brightly as she peered down at him.

Her expression was stricken, embarrassed, and she stumbled a little as she hastily took a step backward. He realized with a start that she was turning to _go_ , and he snapped out of his shocked daze when he realized that she meant to leave because he had _ordered_ her to… or rather, he'd ordered _Minako_ to go.

With an involuntary curse spat under his breath - _an expletive for the pain that was the Cheshire cat-_ he scrambled to his feet.

His movements were hurried, rushed when he made it to the bars and reached out for her. "Wait! Usako! Don't go," he pleaded and breathed a sigh of relief when she froze mid-stride and slowly turned back towards him. Her cheeks were tinged red, and her eyes downcast, as she bit her rosy-hued bottom lip enticingly between her teeth. "I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else," he breathed softly, as his fingers wrapped around the bars tightly.

His breath caught in his throat when she tilted her head up, ever so slightly, blinking twice. And the look in her eyes was so alluring, so innocent and trusting he would have given anything, at that moment, to pull her small, vulnerable, form into his arms.

She cleared her throat and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Mamo-chan, I shouldn't be down here," she choked brokenly. "The Queen will be so terribly angry if she knows that I've defied her once again," she whispered, and tentatively met his gaze. "But I had to see you one more time."

Everything about the Usako of this world broke his _fucking_ heart. She was afraid, small and not at all the confident woman that had boldly faced and defeated powerful enemies as the Moon Senshi. It infuriated him that she'd been robbed of that which she'd so rightfully earned.

His fingers coiled around the bars so tightly his knuckles whitened, and he groaned as he pressed his forehead against the bars. "Usako," he murmured pleadingly, _desperate,_ and with so much regret. "It's going to be alright, Usako. I'm going to find a way to get you out of here," he whispered, his voice hoarse and filled with promise. And it was a promise because he wouldn't let this end in Wonderland.

She sniffled, and the tears glistening in her eyes fell and silently slid down her cheeks. He instinctively reached an arm through the bars and cupped the side of her face in his hand. Her skin felt cool to the touch, and he felt her tremble beneath his fingers as he used the pad of his thumb to swipe a tear away.

She leaned into his palm, a sad smile gracing her lips. "It is very strange," she whispered softly. "I know that I'm not very good at what I do. I'm always very late, and- and-" She choked on tears that she was now valiantly trying to hold back. "I do fall a lot. But you are so kind to me, Mamo-chan. I feel a very strange fluttering right here," she breathed and lifted her hand to press delicate fingers on her chest, "every time you say something to me, or you look at me. I feel it."

His heart skipped a beat, and his breathing quickened. _Yes!_ He was so close! He reached out and grasped her waist with his free arm. She gasped as he gently pulled her towards him. "I know, Usako," he murmured tenderly, peering down into her blue eyes, wide like saucers, and filled with awe. "I can feel it too," he said, his tone ragged.

She slowly lifted her hands, slender fingers curling around the bar between them with one hand, and the other one she tentatively pressed against his chest through the bars. Tiny crinkles formed on her brow as she narrowed her eyes curiously. It was as if she was trying to feel for the fluttering in his chest for herself. It should have felt silly, such a ridiculous thing to do, but it didn't. It was sweet, innocent, and so damn tantalizing. And he wondered if she felt the way his heart was pounding beneath her fingertips.

Her eyes widened again, and her breathing accelerated, as evident by the visible quickening in the rise and fall of her chest as her lips parted slightly. "What is the fluttering, Mamo-chan?" She asked, her tone achingly soft but filled with confusion.

He was so close. _So damn close,_ and this was his last chance. He cradled her face in his hands and wished that there were no bars impeding him. "It's love, Usako. I love you," he confessed, so desperate to hear her own admission. To free her from the prison of the character that she'd been forced to play.

He heard her gasp and felt her tremble beneath his hands. "Wh.. what?" She stammered, and he could see it. Damn, he could _see it._ The idea of love, purposefully ripped from her mind, slowly beginning to register. _Please, Usako._

His whole body was coiled in anticipation, as he waited with bated breath because he was close. She was right on the precipice of understanding what she meant to him, _what he meant to her._ She opened her mouth, and he was sure that she was going to reciprocate, but she was interrupted. That damn watch began to blare into the silence of the dungeon, and it effectively ripped her from the intimate moment that would have freed her. _That would have freed all of them._

She shook her head and ripped herself from his arms, and it felt like she'd ripped his heart out too. "Usako!" he pleaded, "Please. Wait," he whispered raspily, but she shook her head and pressed her hands to her red-hot cheeks in utter confusion.

She blinked away the haze of reality. "I'm sorry…." she trailed off, her nose scrunched up in puzzled contemplation as he mournfully watched the wisps of the memories he'd been so close to evoking, completely disappear. Her eyes glossed over, and he knew that he was once again staring at the contrived little bunny of Wonderland. "Oh, my fur and whiskers! I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!" she exclaimed, and with a twist of her body, she scrambled away into the darkness.

He growled furiously and kicked the bench in red-hot frustration. "No!" he snapped angrily, and the sound of his voice reverberating off the walls was painfully loud. He was alone again.

oOo

An hour later, Mamoru was still sitting in his cell, quietly ruminating over his visit from Usako. His throat was still constricted painfully with emotion for having failed. He couldn't believe it. He'd been so _incredibly_ close. Now, he just felt lost and disoriented. If only he could have been afforded a couple more minutes. He swore that if he had it his way when they finally returned to reality, she would never wear a watch again!

His head fell back, and his eyes fixed onto the ceiling with a guttural groan of dismay. What was his next step? What was the plan? He couldn't let it end like this. He _wouldn't_ let it end like this.

His heart skipped a beat, and his head snapped back as he distinctly heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. His stomach lurched, and he jumped up, hurriedly striding back to the bars. His hands clenched around them as he furiously scanned the small room beyond his cell. _Maybe she was coming back?_

The excitement died in his chest, and his face fell when he realized it wasn't her. Instead, dread filled his body as a guard materialized from the darkness of the stairwell and headed in his direction. As the gaudily dressed, spear-wielding man approached, Mamoru promptly stepped back from the bars, moving away from the cell door as the guard pulled out a large brass skeleton key with intricate designs etched onto it. He swallowed past the lump in this throat as the guard opened the door and, with a scowl on his face, stepped into the small confines of the cell.

Mamoru knew there was no point in attempting to run; to try to escape just yet. Not until he was out of the dungeon. He couldn't make it out of here with all the Queen of Hearts' minions lingering in the darkened crevices of every nook and cranny. So he followed instructions to turn around and cringed as he was swiftly handcuffed. The manacles wound tightly around his wrists and painfully bit into his skin.

He didn't have a plan; there was no way of getting out of here. He'd have to play it by ear when he got back up to the castle. He only hoped that there would be some kind of opening for him to make an escape. Maybe Ami had managed to think of something? If he could just get to Usagi and get them both away from the castle, he could have another chance to pull at the memories he knew lingered inside of her.

The guard jerked him out of the cell, and he gritted his teeth at the sight of four more waiting for him. He sighed and closed his eyes. Of _course_ , there would be more. There wasn't a damn thing about Wonderland that had been easy thus far. He was pushed from behind and prodded into the direction of the four guards, who wore grins in varying degrees of evil and contempt. He couldn't help the disgust that rose in his throat and churned in his stomach as he made his way to the group.

They crowded around him and shuffled up a staircase through a wooden door at the top. As they made their way through the castle, decorated in so many different shades of red, more and more guards flanked him, escorting him to, what he could only assume, would be his end. He swallowed around the lump of injustice that formed in his throat.

While he appreciated the book and what it offered to the literary world, now that he was here and _actually living it,_ he couldn't help but curse the author for creating a damn character that would execute someone for spilling paint! _And by cutting off his head?_ He hated everything about this world.

They entered the courtyard behind the castle where a guillotine stood waiting. His eyes widened in horror. There was a real _guillotine_ in Wonderland? What kind of place _was this?!_ He didn't remember _this_ part of the story! Although, he didn't remember them getting this far in the story. Alice had escaped before she'd actually been sent here. _Lucky her._

It made his stomach turn. Maybe there _was_ no getting out of this.

The courtyard was full of guards, and they cheered jubilantly and watched as he was brought to the center of the arena. On a raised platform in front of the guillotine sat the Queen and King. Jadeite looked bored, rolling his eyes, and Rei looked excited and expectant, practically vibrating in excited anticipation. She was _enjoying_ this! The sneering smile on her face filled him with dread.

Ground level beside her stood Ami. His heart broke as she stood there, eyes full of tears with her hands tied behind her back. She hadn't gotten away again. They'd captured her after taking him to the dungeon. Hopelessness began to take over. He hadn't realized how much he'd depended on the Senshi of intelligence. _Damn._ This was it. This was _really_ it.

Rei stood, effectively silencing the collective of wild guards who were _way_ too over excited about watching someone be beheaded. "Today is a very exciting day for all of us" She held out her hands, regally twisting her wrists, as the crowd erupted into raucous cheers again. The second she dropped her hands, the inhabitants filling the courtyard fell silent. She turned evil purple eyes onto him and his soul shattered. _At least Usagi wasn't here to see this_. She would be spared from the horror that was about to happen.

Rei made a motion with her hand, and he was jerked from behind and violently pulled toward the guillotine. His heart began to pound in the cavity of his chest as they walked him up onto the platform and forcibly steadied him behind the wooden mechanism and the sharply shining blade that hung precariously above him. He held his head high as he stared at her defiantly. He refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing how scared and broken he really felt.

Her eyes sparkled as she gazed down on him from over her nose. "Do you have anything to say before your end?" She asked although he knew she didn't really care. She probably wanted him to beg, plead with her to spare his life. He wouldn't do it. He refused.

Even as the fear threatened to take over him, his expression hardened and he steeled his resolve. His gaze met Ami's, and her eyes were wide and filled with despair. Tears streamed down her bloodless cheeks, and it tore at his heart. "I'm sorry!" She cried morosely, her voice serrated with regret.

He adamantly shook his head. " _I'm_ sorry, Ami. I thought I could get us out of here. I was wrong. I'm so sorry," he choked out. Her head dropped, and a strangled sob tore from her throat. He wanted to cry, himself. What would happen to her after he was gone? Would they kill her next? And even if they didn't, would she be able to survive in this crazy, _God-forsaken_ world all on her own? The thought caused him more pain than his own mortality.

Rei grinned a vicious grin, signalling for the execution to commence. The guard behind him kicked the back of his knee, sending him to the wooden platform hard. He looked up to see all eyes on him. _This was it._

"Stop!" a cry came from the opening of the courtyard. Everyone's heads turned, and his stomach flipped as his precious white rabbit came bounding into the clearing. The crowd parted for her, with accusing scowling looks and hushed whispers of confusion. Rei's eyes flashed dangerously as Usagi came to a halt in front of her. "You can't do this! You can't kill him!" She screeched, her words shaky and breaking. Mamoru's breath quickened, and his heart tightened in his chest.

"And why, pray tell, not?" Rei said quietly, a dangerous warning embedded into the tone of her voice.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, and his heart skipped a beat at the look in her eyes. It was the same one. The one that had briefly crossed her face when he'd caught her in the cottage, when he'd kissed her at brunch and when she'd sweetly whispered that her heart was fluttering because of him.

Her eyes, so blue and beautiful, fell onto him for only a moment before they hardened, just like the warrior princess that she was, and fixed firmly onto Rei. "Because I love him!" Usagi blurted out defiantly. The crowd gasped, and his heart stopped. She'd said it. She'd _said it!_ With wide eyes, she slowly turned to face him. He couldn't breathe. He could see it in her eyes; the memories flooding back like a tidal wave. "I love you, Mamo-chan."

With strength he thought that he no longer possessed, he stood, shoved the guard behind him and leapt off of the platform. He felt the bonds on his wrists break as he quickly approached her. She stood deathly still, her face pale, as she watched him. And then he ran. He couldn't seem to get to her fast enough.

When he did, he brought his hands up to grasp her neck and pulled her into a passionate kiss. Her lips molded perfectly to his, and she reciprocated with an expertise that was more reminiscent of the Usako who'd spent so much time learning how to kiss, _with him._ He could have cried tears of joy as her slender arms curled around him, and she pressed her body flush against his.

He pulled away, his eyes wet with unshed tears, and noted the confusion in her eyes as she studied her surroundings. "Mamo-chan, I remember. I remember everything! What's going on? Where are we?" She whispered, her words hurried and filled with terror.

His heart flipped in his chest, and he couldn't stop the lone tear of relief that slid listlessly down his face. "It's just a dream; a _nightmare._ But it's okay. You're here now. We just need to get out of here before-" but his voice was cut short as a buzzing sound hummed around them. His felt his eyes widen as his stomach dropped. This was precisely how the last dream had ended...before he'd woken up in that lab. _And then it had all started over._

His gaze was alarmed, and his muscles tensed with panic as he glanced over at Usagi. Her eyes were wide with confusion and fear. He reached for her and tightened his arms around her in a vice grip. The world around them began to fade to black, and he felt his stomach churn and the bile rise in his throat. They'd wake up in the lab again, wouldn't they? And this time, they needed to be ready.

He bent down and pressed his lips to her ear. "Usako, I love you. I love you _so much!_ I will get us out of here. I swear. I-" but he didn't get to finish before blackness overtook him.


	4. Chapter 3: Married to a Broken heart Pt1

**A/N:** Beej88 here! This next chapter is mine! This one is very different from the last one. This is an angst-ridden AU, with lots of feels. Hope you like it!

 **Married to a broken heart**

 **Part 1**

He felt the pull of consciousness, the dulling numbness of the black abyss he'd been sucked into several times slowly fade away as he gradually became aware of his surroundings. He inhaled sharply and clenched his eyes shut as the dread of another nightmare curled up tightly into the pit of his stomach.

Mamoru was terrified to open his eyes; _who knew what the hell he'd been thrust into this time?_ The terrifying images of the nightmarish worlds, in which Usagi had purposefully been torn from him, flit through his mind. He flexed his hands, and the pads of his fingers slid across a smooth, cool to the touch, fabric that slipped listlessly across his skin. He mentally took note that his body was pressed into a cushioned surface that molded very comfortably around his limbs.

He took a deep, cleansing breath, forcibly hardened his resolve against whatever contrived horror was there to greet him, and tentatively opened his eyes.

Whatever he'd been expecting, it was definitely not the sight of beams, fixed across white painted, vaulted ceilings lined with crown moulding. He blinked twice, expelled the bleary-eyed remnants of sleep from his eyes, and rapidly shot up into a sitting position. His head swam dizzily from the abrupt movement for a moment before the feeling subsided and he focused on the room.

He was in a bedroom he'd never seen before. It was spacious, open, with polished, walnut coloured hardwood floors and expensive gleaming white furniture. It was dark in the bedroom as chic, grey chevron blackout curtains covered the windows. The only source of light came from the open-doored ensuite bathroom. It poured into the room and illuminated his figure tangled up in a billowing goose down grey duvet, and silken pale blue sheets in the middle of an enormous, California king-size, sleigh bed.

It was clear that whatever world he was in now, he was apparently living in luxury.

He sighed and raked a hand through the ebony locks of his hair in terrified frustration. The luxury didn't mean a damn thing, and the pressing need to find Usagi, _again,_ bubbled up from his chest and painfully constricted his throat. What kind of hell had _they_ entrenched his Usako in this time?

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretching an odd kink in his neck. He shivered, noticing that he was shirtless, sporting only a pair of dark gray sweatpants. He stood, frowning as he swayed slightly, before carefully padding barefoot across the floor to the bathroom. He pushed the door open and clenched his eyes shut as his vision was assaulted by the light. There was a dull throb at the back of his head, a nauseousness in the pit of his stomach, and dryness in his mouth that made it difficult to swallow. It almost felt like he was sick… though that wasn't quite right. No, he felt _hungover._

He could barely stand the light, but as his eyes adjusted, and his stomach settled, he took note of the glistening white-tiled surfaces of the bathroom that was probably bigger than his entire apartment. There was a white porcelain tub, white marble counters, - _so much damn white -_ it made his stomach turn. He made his way to one of the two, his and hers, sinks and gingerly turned the tap on. The sound of the water pressure crashing against the surface of the raised glass bowled sink echoed throughout the silence and sent a shot of pain through his head.

He risked a look at himself in the mirror and grimaced at his reflection. He looked relatively like himself, black hair, angled, sharp features, but his eyes were bloodshot. He was _definitely_ hungover.

He groaned out loud, cupped his hands under the spray of the water and splashed the cool liquid onto his face. It felt nice, and it was slightly refreshing, but he couldn't expel the panic in his chest. The terror of whatever daunting task lay ahead of him, paired with the _apparent_ side-effects of whatever affliction this worlds Mamoru had indulged into the night before, overwhelmed him. He braced his hands on the counter, leaning forward with a bent head as he forced his quickened, anxiety-riddled, breathing to slow down.

The water on his face beaded and rolled along the length of his jaw, before dripping and falling onto the counter. He focused on one drop in particular that splashed unceremoniously, like a broken piece of glass, onto a gleaming, gold wedding band glaring up at him from his ring finger.

He gasped, his face whitening and his vision blurring as he focused on the offending piece of jewellery. _Oh, fuck._ Who the hell was he married to? It could be _anyone_ at this point. _God, what if it was Beryl?_ How the hell could he salvage _that_? He desperately needed to see Usagi. The thought of her out there, languishing in whatever hell that they'd placed her in, while he stood in this excessively expensive bathroom, married to _someone else_ , made him feel sick.

He allowed himself to feel one more moment of pressing panic and crushing despair, his knuckles turning white as he desperately clutched the countertop before he took a deep, cleansing breath. His eyes hardened with determination as he glared at his reflection in the mirror. He needed to figure out where the hell he was, and what world he was in. _Then_ he needed to find out which one of their friends had managed to stay awake so that they could work together and get his Usako to _remember_ so they could get the fuck out of here.

He stepped back from the mirror, the cobalt blue of his eyes locked unblinkingly with the ones in his reflection, as the determination in his stance slightly became tinged with dread. The first thing he was going to need to do was to find out who the hell he was married to.

oOo

It seemed like this world was not going to be something fantastical or strange, _thank God,_ and he was relieved to find that the Mamoru he inhabited in this world shared his organization tendencies as he was able to quickly find his clothes, neatly pressed and hanging in an enormous walk-in closet. What he _did_ find disconcerting, though, was the apparent lack of feminine apparel. There wasn't a hint of a woman's presence in this bedroom, except for maybe the choice of decor.

He didn't even live with Usako yet, and still, she'd left a signature of herself everywhere in his apartment; a forgotten sweater, a pair of pyjamas tucked into one of his dresser drawers, and an ungodly amount of woman's cosmetics that she never put away. The vast array of hair products and makeup that she always forgot to put the lids back on after she was done using them, spread out over the bathroom counter. So, he knew, that if he was married in this world, there should be some kind of indication in his room, _right_? Woman's clothes hanging next to his? At the very least a pink toothbrush, with little-cartooned unikitty's etched into the handle, like the one Usako had left at his apartment. There was nothing like that here, and it made him even more nervous.

He dressed quickly and mentally braced himself as he pushed open the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. The blackout curtains in the bedroom had been _very_ effective, as it was clearly daytime, and he frowned as his eyes found a large, ornate decorative clock with Roman numerals hanging on the wall just above a stairwell that twisted and led to the main floor of the house. It was 7:11 am, so relatively early in the morning.

He was intent on making his way down the stairs, his eyes scanning his surroundings for clues or something he could use to figure out where he was when his roaming gaze stopped and fixed onto another door that was partially opened.

He frowned as he pushed it open all the way, and his confusion only deepened further at the sight of another bedroom. The decor was very similar to the room he'd just vacated, except this room clearly held all of the feminine touches that had been lacking in the one he'd just left.

He stepped over the threshold, his eyes perusing the crumpled pink comforter on the same King sized, white painted, sleigh bed. He inhaled sharply, though, at the sight of several jackets slung over the white brocaded bench at the end of the bed. Several issues of the manga he knew that Usako read perched precariously on the bedside table, and in place of blackout curtains, there were sheer gossamer curtains, embroidered with pink lace that rippled in the wind that wafted in through the open window.

He swallowed nervously, feeling uncertain, though not understanding the reason why. He stepped further into the room, hesitantly making his way to a small desk pressed up against the wall. It was out of place, cheaper looking than the rest of the furniture that surrounded it. There were gouges, and scuff marks that marred the chipped brown paint that had dulled over time. It was the only brown piece of furniture in the whiteness that seemed to cover _everything_ in the house.

Something churned violently in his stomach as it clicked into place, and he recognized the desk. It was the same desk he'd seen many times, and it currently sat in Usako's childhood bedroom in her parent's house. He strode to it, reached out and reverently ran his fingers over the grainy surface. _What did this mean?_ Was this Usagi's room?

His fingers stopped as they reached a picture frame that lay face down amidst discarded papers, and more well-weathered issues of a Manga series he _knew_ Usagi had read several times.

He carefully picked up the frame, turning it over in his hands. His eyes widened with confusion, then filled with a deep-seated relief that washed over him in warm waves. He wanted to weep he was so happy. It was a picture of Usagi, looking absolutely stunning in a white wedding gown. She was smiling up at him, lovingly enveloped in his tuxedoed arms. _He was married to Usagi._ In this world, he was married to his little Usako!

He wanted to laugh, the inclination bubbling up hysterically into his throat. They were going to get the hell out of here _so_ much sooner than the last nightmare.

He should have known, of course, that it wouldn't be that easy.

"What are you doing?" He whipped around, startled, at the sound of the beautiful, _but strangely reproachful,_ voice that he recognized so well.

His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her. She was a glowing blonde Angel of hope standing in the doorway swathed in a white, loose-fitting, sundress that billowed around endlessly long legs. He was lost in his overwhelming relief to have found her _so soon,_ so it took a moment before he noted that the odangoed hairstyle that was so uniquely his pretty little Moon princess was, once again, absent. In its place was a thick, glossy, golden braid, threaded and hanging down her back. It was still beautiful, but he was still disappointed to see her signature hairstyle gone.

His heart sank as his gaze met hers and there was not the bright sparkle he loved to see in the sapphire blue of her eyes. Instead, he was greeted with a hardened glare filled with censure and irritation. Her pink bubble gum lips pressed into a grim, angry line.

 _Dammit._ He should have known it wasn't going to be that easy. "What do you mean?" he said, nervously clearing his throat, and trying to ignore the dull throb still pulsing in his head.

She rolled her eyes, and strode towards him, her movements quick and filled with irritation. She stopped in front of him, yanked the picture frame from his hands and carelessly tossed it back onto the desk. He inwardly flinched at the sound of the metal casing as it hit the wooden surface with a dull thud. He froze, shocked by the _look_ radiating from her eyes.

"I mean, what do you want, Mamoru?" she spat with irritation, her tone filled with a venom that tore at his heart.

He shifted uncomfortably and tried to think of something he could say. He wished he could just pull Usagi into his arms, crush her lips onto his, and tell her _everything._ He'd tried that before. It hadn't worked then, and he knew it wouldn't work now.

He did decide to take a risk, though. "What? I can't just want to see my wife?" he said, and the word wife slipped tenderly from his lips as he waited with bated breath for her reaction. _Please be my wife. Please, let her be my wife._

She frowned, her eyes clouded with confusion before snorting and crossing her arms in irritation. "How much _did_ you drink last night?" His face fell, and his heart clenched tightly. _No._ She just _had_ to be his wife. "Since when do you care about having a conversation with your wife?" she sneered as she twirled her body, stepped away from him, and opened the door to a closet that was only slightly smaller than where his clothes currently hung in the other room.

The other room… _damn…._ he was married to her, but, for some reason, they did not share a room. It was evident by the stiffness in her posture as she stepped into the closet, that was teeming with all the brightly coloured clothes he knew she loved, that his Usako _hated_ him. It took everything he had to conceal his heartbroken expression. This was worse than if he'd woken up married to someone else. _This was so much worse._

She roughly pulled a cotton fabric, soft purple sweater from a hanger and angrily put it on, her gaze burning as she glanced over her shoulder at him. "Seriously, Mamoru. What do you want? I'm leaving to meet the girls in like ten minutes," she snapped with exasperation. "Don't you have a shift at the hospital?"

He was at a loss for words. This nightmare fucking _sucked_. "Do I?" he managed to mutter, and Usako stopped and raised her eyebrows at him in disbelief. "Have a shift, at the hospital, I mean," he murmured pathetically. It would appear that he'd become a doctor just like he'd originally planned. The perfect life; big house, dream job, except that the love of his life _hated_ him for some _reason_.

She exhaled deeply, looking upwards as if praying for patience before she shook her head in frustration. "You know, I don't really know where you go these days, Mamoru," she spat and flew past him, a whirl of white fabric and blonde hair. She stopped in the doorway, her frown deepening, "Look, stay home, go to work. Whatever. It's up to you, but if you're not well, you should probably get yourself checked out," she said, and her angry tone softened a little.

"You are responsible for saving lives, after all," she whispered, her back to him, and her shoulders stiff and unyielding. There was a sense of sadness curled into the whispered words that took his breath away. _What the hell?_ How had the Mamoru in this world hurt her, destroyed her so severely, that she would talk to him _like that?_

He was at a loss for words, so by the time he thought of something to say, it was too late. She was gone.

He clenched his fingers into fists, pressing them firmly into his thighs as the anger and _injustice_ of this world overwhelmed him. He let loose a string of angry expletives and furiously kicked Usagi's childhood desk. Screw the monsters that had put them here!

He was going to tear apart this stupid, contrived nightmare just like all of the other ones, save Usagi, and then find a way to tear them all to shreds.

His determination overtook his sad desperation, and he strode out of the room with purpose. He was going to go to his shift at the hospital, find whoever had managed to stay awake and get the hell out of here.

oOo

The minute he stepped into Tokyo's Saiseikai Central hospital, not really sure what to expect, he was descended upon by a domineering sullen-faced Kunzite. He'd stopped, frozen in place, as the reincarnated silver-haired General had barreled towards him with urgency and purpose that was both concerning and slightly terrifying. He was _still_ getting used to the fact that the Shitennou from his previous life had _somehow_ regenerated and were now also mired in these godforsaken nightmares whose sole purpose was to seemingly make his life a living hell.

The general grasped his arm angrily, his fingers tightly biting into the skin of his forearm painfully. "What the hell, Chiba? You are so _fucking_ late!" he growled, and forcibly yanked him down the hall. _Hell_ , he was late? _How was he supposed to figure this out?_

He stumbled a bit, but then caught himself, before pulling his arm away from the overly aggressive general. "Look, I'm sorry, it's been a pretty strange morning," he murmured, and he wondered if he'd managed to infuse enough contrition into his tone.

Kunzite scoffed, shaking his head in disbelieving disgust. "Bullshit, I know you were out last night with the residents," he snapped. "What the hell were you thinking, Mamoru? You missed the morning report led by the family medicine residents. Damn, you're t _he surgical attending physician._ You need to get your shit _together_! You don't get to show up whenever the fuck you want because you have a hangover!" Mamoru frowned at Kunzites anger-filled words. _Surgical attending physician?_ He'd always intended to specialize in pediatrics, making this an unwelcome surprise. "The residents are just wrapping up their morning report rounds with the night coverage team. I suggest that you be on time for your patient rounds!" he practically snarled.

"Chiba, you damn well better be on time for the administration meeting this afternoon. I swear to God, if you make me look like a fool in front of the medical director again, I will _fire_ you," he snapped, gave him one last scathing look before he twisted around without another word and made his way down the cavernous hallway.

 _Damn._ He was so screwed. He didn't have _time_ for this. This job, no matter how prestigious, was not what he wanted. He wanted Usagi, safe and sound in his arms, and back in the _real_ world.

He made his way through the hospital maze as he contemplated his next plan of action. He was only dimly aware of the beeping trills, the hushed whispers, the hurried patients and hospital staff that whirled past him as he slowly navigated the halls of a hospital he'd been to several times in his real life.

Usagi had mentioned that she was going to meet the girls before he'd left the house. He should have asked her where she was going, as he was sure that one of them _had_ to be awake. It was a pattern, wasn't it? _One_ of them had to be awake. His heart began to race at the thought that he might have to do this on his own.

He didn't know where he'd walked to as he was lost in thought. He stopped in his tracks suddenly, frozen by the sight of a familiar blunette leaning against the wall. Ami was dressed in hospital scrubs, her arms crossed as she stared pointedly at the ground. There was a scowl on her face, and she was biting her bottom lip almost… _nervously?_

He exhaled with relief, it was Ami that had managed to stay awake this time. "Ami," he whispered, his voice slightly cracked with emotion as he stopped in front of her.

She looked up, startled before her face crumpled into a look of devastation. _She was definitely the one who'd stayed awake._ He was so elated that he had someone to figure this out with, that he didn't protest when she grasped his wrist and gently pulled him through a door that he briefly noted had his name printed in white lettering, set into a black metal plaque. _Dr. Mamoru Chiba._

When they were through the door, and it clicked shut, he only spared a brief glance at the interior of the room that was apparently his office in this world, before turning his gaze back to the blunette that had whirled around to face him. Her aquamarine-coloured eyes were wide and filled with unshed tears as she nervously wrung her hands.

He frowned, surprised that she was taking this so badly. She'd been awake before and had seemed so logical at the time. He wasn't sure why she was on the verge of tears here, in a hospital where according to her name tag, she was a resident, as opposed to their brief foray in Wonderland.

His brow furrowed as he took a step towards her, "Hey, are you okay, Ami? I know this is weird, but we'll figure it out," he stated with a conviction that he wasn't a hundred percent sure that he felt himself. It seemed like she needed to be comforted, though, so he would do what he could to get her back on track to being the calm and calculated Senshi of Mercury. He desperately needed her expertise to get them _out of here._

She gasped, her hands flying to her face and her fingers pressing onto her lips with a look of dismay. "Oh God, how did she take it, Mamo-chan? I never wanted to hurt her," she whispered brokenly. He opened his mouth to respond that he hadn't told her anything but stopped short as her words really registered in his mind. _What? Mamo-chan?_

His brow furrowed, utterly confused by her statement. "I'm sorry, what?" he croaked, a sneaking and terrifying suspicion creeping slowly to the forefront of his mind.

Ami swallowed nervously, shifting uncomfortably under his horrified stare. "Well, you said that you were going to tell her yesterday, and then you drunk texted me saying that you couldn't do it yet, but then you weren't here this morning… and well, you just said…" she trailed off as his expression grew increasingly more horrified with each word she spoke. _No._ It was not possible. He couldn't comfortably conceive the words that were coming out of her mouth, and the horrible things that they were implying.

He took a step backwards, his heels colliding with the door as he reached back to brace himself against it. _He'd misunderstood. This had to be a misunderstanding._ "What are you talking about?" he demanded raggedly, his heart racing as his hands became slick with nervous sweat, and the blood drained from his face.

Her frown deepened, and the look of devastation melted into a look of confusion. "What do you mean? You don't remember texting me? Mamo-chan, I know you were nervous about your conversation with Usagi, but you really shouldn't have had so much to drink," she whispered _tenderly,_ stepped towards him, placing a slender hand on his arm. He tore away as if she'd burned him.

A look of pain flashed over her face, her delicate features contorting into a mask of hurt as she blinked up at him. "Mamo-chan, I told you that I would not pursue this any further until you told Usagi how you felt. It's bad enough that we kissed," it felt like the blunette had reached into his chest and crushed his damn heart. Fuck. _He'd been unfaithful. "_ But if you've changed your mind… I - I'll be hurt because I- well you know I have feelings for you."

He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't bear to hear another soft-spoken word from Ami's lips; his friend, _Usako's friend._ "Ami, stop, God, please. Just stop speaking," he gasped, and it broke his heart to see the tears that welled in her eyes, before silently rolling down pale cheeks.

She choked on a whimper and wrapped her arms around her midsection. Damn, she was heartbroken. This nightmare really, _really_ _fucking sucked._ "I- I understand, Mamo-ch… Mamoru-san. I'll…" she trailed off, suppressing a sob and furiously wiping the tears off of her cheeks. He wanted to reach out to her, but he couldn't, not knowing what the Mamoru of this world had _done._ "Please, don't keep your patients waiting because of me. I know I'm supposed to shadow you, but - Oh God," she burst into tears, and he jumped out of the way as she pushed past him, desperately trying to open the door.

In her grief, she was unable to manage the doorknob. He reached down, suppressing tears of his own, twisted the handle, and pushed the door open for her.

She raced through the doorway, a furious blur of blue hair and green fabric, as the door slammed shut, again, behind her. He cringed and clenched his eyes closed as the deafening sounds of the sob that had ripped from Ami still echoed throughout the office around him. He collapsed against the door, his breathing erratic, as he slid slowly down to the floor, with his head buried in his hands. _Damn. He could get through this._ He had to get through this.

oOo

He'd tried to just leave the hospital several times, but had been stopped, and pulled away towards the job that he'd apparently worked so hard to get. He'd become immersed in the daunting tasks that were a day in the life of an attending physician. It was exhausting, nerve-wracking, and _exhilarating._

If he were truly honest with himself, he absolutely loved the job in question, and it was everything he wanted in a career. He could see why whoever or whatever had put them in this nightmare might think that he might be too distracted with this to focus on making his Usako remember her love for him. They were dead wrong, though, and none of this was worth a damn thing if he was an unfaithful husband that went home to hatred burning in Usako's beautiful blue eyes every night.

Every time he spoke with a patient, laughed with a fellow or resident, the soft contours of Usagi's delicate features etched into his mind, and his heart twisted up painfully with guilt for staying here, entrenched in the illusion of this nightmare.

He did not find anyone else he recognized in the hospital, except for Kunzites sullen eyes, and Ami, whom he'd not seen since that gut-wrenching moment in his office a few hours ago.

He'd managed to slip away again, and he sighed with relief as he neared the entrance. He was practically home free when the silver-haired General stepped in front of him. He inwardly groaned and had to fight the urge to scream in frustration.

He stopped, shifting anxiously as he peered over Kunzites shoulder at the exit wistfully. _So close. He'd been so close._ "What do you want?" he snapped, frustrated irritation laced into his impatient words. Kunzite had been on him all day, his eyes like that of a hawk, questioning everything, and scoffing at all of his decisions.

He didn't know how it was possible, as he'd seen Kunzite at his darkest, but the general's cold stare became even more menacing. There was a fury radiating off of him that he did not understand. He knew that Kunzite was the head of his department, so _technically_ his boss, but he had yet to determine the reason for the hatred he apparently had for him.

The grey-eyed, silver-haired man, took a step closer, towering over him angrily. "Why is she in your office? Is the blue-haired resident not _enough_ for you?" he hissed quietly, his words filled with seething hatred. His heart clenched tightly in his chest. _Did everyone know about whatever the hell was going on between him and Ami?_ The thought made his stomach churn violently. How could he have ever, _even in a fake reality,_ betrayed his beautiful, pure-hearted princess like that? With one of her friends, no less?

Mamoru's brow furrowed, his eyes and jaw hardening with annoyed frustration. One of the worst parts about being thrust into a life he didn't remember was the riddled statements from people, spouting things he should know, but didn't. He was so _damn_ tired of guessing what the fuck was going on.

His stance stiffened as he returned the generals scowl with one of his own. He was tired of catering to his intimidation tactics. "I'm not really sure what you're talking about, Kunzite. I'm going to need you to clarify your statement," he snapped, his words angry as he spoke them through gritted teeth.

Kunzite sniffed disdainfully and rolled his eyes, but there was something else that flashed over his face; a momentary display of vulnerability and sadness. "You know damn well what I'm talking about, Chiba. You're a snake, but I didn't think you'd stoop so low," he spat, his words ragged and filled with rage-filled venom. "You know what Minako means to me, Chiba," he said, and his eyes softened slightly, and his words were a little less angry and little more pleading.

Mamoru's eyes widened as his mind began to race. _Minako was here?_ He swallowed, trying to dislodge the anxious lump in his throat at Kunzite's words. "Kunzite, what the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Kunzite shook his head, his face contorted into a look of unfettered disgust. "I can't believe there was a time that I considered you a friend," he whispered, before he swivelled around, twisting away from him and making his way through the hospital lobby. "Give my best to your _wife_ ," he spat over his shoulder vengefully, leaving a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, and a cold dread building rapidly in the cavity of his chest.

He had two options now, he could walk out of the hospital doors, go back to his pretend, overly pretentious house, and try and face the unbearable hatred emanating from the love of his life, or he could turn around and meet Minako, that was apparently sitting in his office. There was a possibility, based on Kunzites hatred-filled words, that he was a cold-hearted snake, and Minako was meeting him for the exact same reason that Ami had been. Though, based on his heart-wrenching interaction with Ami, he seriously doubted that was the case. Which meant that Minako was here for only one other reason.

He turned back towards his office, his movements hurried and his heart pounding in anticipation. He hoped to God, with everything in him, that Minako was here because she was awake and remembered.

oOo

He hesitated, his hand poised on the door handle, as he tried to mentally collect his thoughts. There had been so many twists, his friends placed into carefully crafted situations, their personalities all molded into pawns. It was like they were strategically placed chess pieces whose sole purpose was... Well, he wasn't sure _what_ the goal of all of this was. He only knew that he could end it the moment that Usagi was _his_ again.

He'd done this before, and he would do it again, with _or_ despite whatever version of Minako greeted him on the other side of the reinforced steel door that led into his sparsely decorated office.

He took a deep, profound breath of preparation and clasped the cool, flat-edged handle before twisting it and pushing the door open. It was soundless as it swept across neutral coloured linoleum floors.

She was sitting in a red vinyl bucket chair. She'd moved the piece of furniture to face the doorway, clad in her signature orange, long legs crossed and curled primly in front of her. Her posture was stiff, hands folded in her lap, with glossy locks of blonde hair, feathered down her back and dusting the tops of bared shoulders. Her expression was impassive, though her lips were slightly pursed as he entered the room.

He couldn't get a read on her, so he had absolutely no idea if she was the one that had fought through the threads of horror that had been weaved for them.

He wasn't sure if the risk was worth it, and so he hoped he suppressed his facial expression well enough as he scrutinized her face. "Minako," he said softly, "what a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?" he stated as cordially as possible.

Her eyes widened slightly, and then her face crumpled in disappointment, muttering a curse under her breath. "Seriously? You too?" She snapped, her voice hoarse and miserable. "I'm going to be really honest here, this has been the _day from freaking hell!_ " she snapped, and gracefully uncurled her legs and leveraged the armrests to pull herself to her feet.

"You know, I don't even _care_ if I sound crazy! You're apparently a doctor, right?" she hissed, taking a step towards him. His heart skipped a beat, and he sighed with relief. She _was_ awake; thank God.

"Minako -" he began, but she raised a delicate hand into the air, effectively interrupting him with a toss of her hair.

She blinked twice, closed her eyes as if praying for patience and let loose a loud, long and dramatic sigh. He inwardly rolled his eyes. _Classic Minako._ "You are not going to believe the day I've had, and when I say that, it's not just me being all dramatic-like. I'm totally serious, Mamoru," she said, her voice rising in pitch as her words became tinged with slight hysteria. "So first of all, I wake up in this room - and like, the room is totally cute you know?- but it's not mine!" she began, and he took a step towards her.

"Minako -"

"No, seriously, you're a phsychoanalyst, right?" she interrupted him, _again,_ and he shook his head in frustration. "Cause it says doctor on your door, Mamoru," she snapped indignantly.

"I think you mean a psychiatrist, Minako, and no, I'm not that type of doctor, though, actually-"

"Whatever! Mamoru! You're not _listening!_ " she interrupted him once again, and this time the octave in her voice pierced through the room. He snapped his mouth shut and crossed his arms in irritation. There just wasn't any point. He was going to have to ride this out.

" _As I was saying,_ I woke up in a room that's not mine, and no, it's not because I fell asleep somewhere else, because this room is actually mine," she said, her words flying out of her lips a mile a minute. "Because, I apparently have this life, except it's _not mine,_ and I realize that in this fucked up life I don't even have the power to turn into a Senshi - which, I'm not even going to explain to you, because really? I don't want you to think I'm totally crazy," she babbled, her hands moving in large dramatic gestures as she spoke. "Because you know what, Mamoru? Everybody thinks I'm crazy. Every. Last. One. Of. Them," she said, and this time her eyes welled up, glistening with tears of terrified frustration.

His eyes softened, and though he didn't tend to see eye-to-eye with Minako all the time, he remembered how terrifying that first nightmare had been. The confusion was unbearably overwhelming. "Minako, please, if you would just listen-" he said softly, taking another step towards her.

She stepped back, shaking her head sadly. "Please, I'm sorry. You were my last hope, and when I asked Usagi where you were, do you know what she said, Mamoru?" She whispered hoarsely, and his breath hitched in his throat because this _he did_ want to know. "She said she didn't care, Mamoru. That she didn't care where you were! Do you know how messed up that is?" she said, her arms trembling as she took a deep calming breath. His heart constricted painfully, and though he'd known that the Usako of this world hated him, it still _really_ hurt to hear her say it.

Minako gulped, furiously wiped an errant tear off of her cheek, as the look in her eyes hardened with resolute fortitude. "I'm sorry, forget I said all of that," she waved her hand dismissively, "I totally just ate some bad sushi, and it's making me say weird things. I'm going to go, but just before I do, I just want you to know that I'm going to fix this. I mean I know that is tot-"

This time he interrupted her. "Minako! Damn, can you stop talking for one second?" he snapped, and it effectively quieted the blonde-haired Senshi of Venus. Her eyes were wide as she regarded him with confusion. "You're not crazy. I know this world is fucked up. I remember, too," he said and ignored her indignant gasp. "It's a nightmare, and trust me, it's not the first one," he said darkly and watched as it registered by the vast array of facial expressions that splayed out on her face.

Her eyes narrowed, her fists clenched at her sides, and she leaned forward. "You let me go on and on, and the whole time - ugh- whatever," she hissed in disgust, then crossed her arms resolutely. "Tell me everything, Mamoru," she demanded crisply, reverting to the Senshi leader he'd often glimpsed in battle.

He nodded firmly, then raked a hand through his hair. "Yeah, alright. You might want to sit down for this..."

oOo

 _Twenty-three minutes._ That was the length of time it had taken for Minako to fully wrap her head around everything he'd revealed to her. It must be some kind of record. _Hell_ , it had even taken _him_ much longer to accept it. But not Minako. The blonde-haired, dramatic, and admittedly _slightly_ clueless Senshi had barely flinched as he'd stumbled through his explanation. Now she sat perched at the edge of his desk, her legs swinging back and forth as she annoyingly sucked on a red lollipop that she'd found somewhere in one of his drawers.

"So, we're all stuck here until Usagi says she loves you?" she asked, a delicate blonde brow arched curiously.

He nodded tentatively, his brow furrowed as he watched her take in all of this information with ease. "Yes, well, she has to believe it herself, too, but that does seem to be the pattern," he murmured. She nodded, her gaze fixed absentmindedly on the wall behind him, as she twirled the lollipop stick between her thumb and forefinger.

She popped it back into her mouth for a moment, then sighed as she tilted her head to the side. "So, there's _always_ one of us awake?" she prodded further, and he couldn't suppress his sigh this time.

He loosened his collared shirt, annoyed and feeling stifled, before leaning back against the door. "Yes, Minako, though, this is your first time," his tone was unnecessarily curt, but _damn_ , her unrattled demeanour was starting to get on his nerves.

She frowned at his tone, her hand and the stupid lollipop, that she'd pulled back out of her mouth, froze in midair as her blue eyes focused on his face. "Don't give me that tone, Mamoru. It's obvious why _I'm_ awake this time," she said, tilting her chin up proudly, a haughty look on her face as she hopped off the desk and propped a hand on her hip.

He sighed, and involuntarily rolled his eyes, _again._ "Alright, I'll bite. _Why_ are _you_ the one awake, Minako?" he stated with exasperation.

The blonde grinned, her white teeth slightly tinged red from the candy, "Because, dear Mamoru," she said slowly, casually tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I'm the Senshi of love! I'll have you and Usagi back in each other's arms and out of this messed up world in a quick second!" she stated confidently, snapping her fingers for dramatic effect.

"I just think we need to figure this out, you know?" she said, and he had to admit, the excitement in her voice was generating a hope he hadn't felt since he'd woken up here. "We just have to get our rabbits in a row," she said firmly, her lollipop almost slipping out of her fingers with her abrupt hand movements.

"Ducks, Minako," he corrected gently, and she shot him a reproachful glare before promptly ignoring him.

"I'll do some sleuthing, get to the bottom of this, and figure out what you did to make Usagi hate you so much - because, she totally hates you-" he frowned at her vehement statement, "then I'll come up with a plan, and you'll fall in love, _all over again._ Then Bam! We kill two cats with one stone!" her tone rose slightly with the anticipation, the Senshi of Venus fully immersed in the challenge she'd been presented with.

"Birds, Minako" he corrected again, and she huffed in irritation, a sullen scowl of irritation crossing her face.

"You know, Mamoru, your obsession with poultry is positively, _astounding,"_ she snapped, and her tone was so reminiscent of the one Kunzite had given him earlier that he grimaced at the thought. _Damn,_ he'd forgotten to tell her about Kunzite.

"Minako - there's something else. Kunzite is here," he said slowly, his tone tentative as he furtively studied her reaction.

She froze, her eyes widening, and the pink tinge draining from her cheeks. "What?" she whispered hoarsely. That, more than anything, had managed to shock her. "What the hell do you mean, _Kunzite is here_? Like, _my_ Kunzite? The _dead_ love-of-my-life, Kunzite?" she blurted, and her words were taking on that hysterical edge again.

"Yes, and I've seen the other generals as well," he replied, his heart aching at the pain that he'd glimpsed in her eyes.

She shook her head, her chest rapidly rising and falling as her breathing quickened. "You're sure it's them? Not a monster or something?" she demanded fiercely, the candy all but forgotten as she clenched her hands into fists and the white lollipop stick bent unnaturally between her fingers.

He contemplated her words for a moment, considering her question, before shaking his head. "I think it's them, at least, they all seem to be drawn to you and the other Senshi," he replied, and he tried to keep his tone gentle like she was a bird that might fly away if he raised his voice an octave higher. "I don't know how it's possible, but I wanted to warn you, just in case you ran into him on the way out. He's my boss, apparently," he said wryly and was once again astounded at how quickly she came to terms with the new information he'd provided her.

Aino Minako was _a lot_ of things; a bit ditzy, slightly vapid, but also fiercely protective of her princess. Right now, her princess needed her, and the loyal and fierce Senshi leader was awakened and in full force.

She nodded curtly, took a deep breath, as the uncertain shock melted off of her face, and she popped that _stupid_ candy right back into her mouth. "Okay, thanks for letting me know, I think it's best if I - if I avoid him for now," she stumbled over the words, before smiling at him again.

"You should also keep your distance from Ami," she said, then without warning flew towards him, he jumped out of the way as she reached around him and clasped the door handle. She pulled the door open and glanced at him with a grimace. "That is just so gross. Usagi is a lost cause, but Ami totally has better taste than that," she said, and it took a moment for her words to completely register in his mind.

He sputtered indignantly, thoroughly insulted, but she just winked and disappeared over the threshold in a flurry of glossy blonde hair, and an annoyingly buoyant bounce in her step.

He stepped out of the office and watched her skip down the hallway with a purpose he wished he also felt.

Minako was damn irritating, but he let a small ghost of a smile curl onto his lips. She _was_ so _damn annoying,_ but he was happy as hell that she was the one awake with him this time.

oOo

The house was empty when he got home. The lavishly decorated rooms completely unused, and the outlines of the pristine and carefully chosen pieces of furniture, barely recognizable in the darkness. When he flicked the switch on from the genkan, the whole house lit up. The gleaming surfaces that looked like they belonged in the showroom of a home on a real estate market were bathed in blaring, bright light.

This was not the house he'd ever envisioned for himself, and his throat constricted painfully at the thought. When he was younger, lost in dreams of a princess he couldn't remember, way before Usako had lit up the dull greys of his life, he'd spent a desolate childhood being torn from one foster home after the other. It was painful to think about, but this house, the one he'd supposedly chosen with the Usako of this world, reminded him of one of the foster homes in particular.

The couple that had taken him in for the few short months, in this particular foster home, had been _relatively_ friendly, though their demeanours were severe. They must have been used to troubled children, as they'd kept their distance from him. Whatever interactions they did have had been firm with stern facial expressions.

That wasn't what made his heartache, though. He recalled that they'd had a house like this; everything perfectly in place. It had seemed cold to him, and he'd been afraid to touch anything in the perfect, practically unliveable, rooms of the ornately decorated house that he could never picture himself calling a _home_.

He remembered feeling so unbearably lonely, and it hurt to recall the vow that the solemn-faced ten-year-old version of himself had made as he'd curled under perfectly pressed, silk blankets with tears silently rolling down his face. When he grew up, his house would be small but cozy, filled with so much joy and laughter. Every piece of furniture in it would be intensely loved, just like the wife and the children he'd intended to fill it with.

He'd been on his way to doing just that with the little ball of glowing brightness that was Usagi. It didn't matter that he knew this was a nightmare. To see this perfect, cold, dark house, still and filled with a deafening silence, nearly brought him to his knees.

He swallowed, regained his composure and stepped into the house. He wondered where Usagi was and realized that he didn't even know how to contact her. He hoped Minako was successful in her quest to discover what had happened between them as he absentmindedly explored the house before ending up in the kitchen.

He was again blinded by white marble countertops and white tiled floors. The cupboards were a lighter grey, but all the damn _white_ in this stupid house overpowered it. It was a cold, impersonal industrialized kitchen, that kind of reminded him of the sterile surfaces of the hospital he worked in.

He shook his head with disgust, discarded his jacket by tossing it over a black stool behind the polished kitchen island, and rolled up his sleeves. If Usako was _anything_ like the beautiful, bright woman he loved, he knew that she had an adorably insatiable appetite. The memories of her pleasure filled sighs as she indulged in something savoury, tugged painfully at his heartstrings. He _needed_ this to be over so that he could go back to living the life he wanted with the woman he loved, who'd had _more_ than her fair share of heartache in this lifetime. The kitchen was an excellent place to start, right? By making her favourite meal?

Visions of the meals they'd shared, her blushing cheeks, and her easy smile renewed his determination to _fix_ this.

Just because he couldn't handle the silence any longer, and because he recognized the speaker set up in the kitchen, he managed to figure out how to work it, and the soft trilling chords of the radio echoed throughout the house.

It took awhile for him to gain his bearings in the kitchen, but soon he familiarized himself with everything, and he was pleased to find a well stocked, stainless steel fridge as he pulled out all of the ingredients for kimchi Okonomiyaki. It was a dish he remembered that Usagi enjoyed, and his hands deftly mixed the ingredients as he heated up the griddle.

There was something soothing about cooking, mixing and chopping. He was good with his hands, and soon he became lost in his thoughts as he moved automatically, instinctively putting the dish together from memory. He was almost done, the rich smells of his cooking wafting around the room, as he pulled a wine glass from the cupboard when he heard her speak.

"Mamoru?" he whipped around to face her, and his breath hitched at the sight of her poised in the kitchen doorway, her posture stiff and her expression incredulous as she peered up at him.

Damn, she was a sight for sore eyes. Still wearing the white sundress, bared sun-kissed shoulders, with her silky blonde hair flowing loosely around them now. He noted that her hair was shorter than he'd initially guessed when she'd had it in a braid this morning, but it was still long, the locks tumbling down her back in glimmering waves of gold.

He smiled tentatively, and her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Hey, are you hungry? I didn't know what time you'd be home, but it looks like you got here just in time to enjoy it hot," he said, his tone hopeful, his fingers flexing around the stem of the wine glass as they itched to reach out to her. He wanted to run his hands through her hair, take her into his arms and kiss that pained expression off her face.

She didn't say anything at first, her eyes regarding him in thinly-veiled confusion, before darkening with suspicion. "What are you even doing here?" she demanded, her lips pressed together tightly.

His heart sank. There had to be _something_ he could do. They were still married, weren't they? She couldn't truly hate him… _could she?_

He fought the urge to visibly gulp and smiled shakily with a shrug. "I live here, don't I?" he said with a forced lightness that he was certain hadn't fooled her for a second. "This is still your favourite, isn't it, Usako?" he breathed softly, and he knew that it was a risk. She could very well hate this dish in this world, and he could have made a stupid mistake that would give her another reason to be angry with him.

He'd managed to surprise her, as her eyes widened slightly, and he heard her sharp intake of breath. She tilted her head, seemingly considering his question before her posture softened slightly and she stepped into the kitchen. She peered onto the stove curiously, and he caught a quick flash of pleasure in her eyes as she delicately sniffed his food. He smiled softly. _Yes!_ He'd made the right decision. She was still his Usako, and his Usako couldn't turn away a good meal.

He turned towards the cupboard and took out a second wine glass, then stepped towards her. Her eyes grew as he approached, big blue saucers wide and frightened, like a small doe caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. He stopped just in front of her, cleared his throat, and shifted uncomfortably. The tension between them was so _damn_ unbearable...but there was chemistry there, too. The sparks of attraction that had always been palpable between them crackled invisibly, and his mouth suddenly felt parched as his need for her overwhelmed him.

She stepped back abruptly, her hands clutching the counter behind her, as she stared up at him unblinkingly. "The wine," he breathed, as he stepped closer. His body so close, he could feel the heat radiating off of her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as her breathing quickened. "It's behind you, Usako," he whispered hoarsely, his face inches from her. If he leant down, just a little, it would be so easy to press his lips onto hers.

She blinked twice as his words registered, blushing furiously before breaking eye contact and swivelling around. She grasped the bottle he'd left on the counter, thrust it into his hands, and stepped around him, effectively putting some distance between them.

He was slightly disappointed, but a warm feeling of elated relief unfurled in his chest as he worked on opening the bottle and pouring them each a glass. She may _think_ she hated him, but he'd felt the threads of attraction that had vibrated brightly between them. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, and that was a start.

"Why aren't you at the hospital?" she questioned, and the sharp edge of her words had softened. He handed her the glass as he reached up and pulled two china plates, _white of course,_ out of the cupboard and doled out a generous portion onto her plate. His back was to her as he worked, so he had a moment to compose his facial expression.

It was very apparent to him, in the things that he'd learned today, that he spent long hours at the hospital. He would have had to, to hold the position that he currently did at his age. Was that what had killed their relationship? It was a painful thought, and it took a moment before he could respond.

He turned back towards her, plates in hand, as he attempted a nonchalant expression. "I wanted to come home and see you," he said gently and watched with horror as the tears welled in her eyes as they glistened sorrowfully.

He froze, and she must have seen the horrified expression on his face because she tried to blink them back. She graced him with a forced watery smile and lifted the glass of red wine to her lips, shakily taking a sip. She gulped back the amber liquid and smacked her lips together. It was painful to watch her visibly swallow, choking with emotion as she averted her tear-filled gaze, and angrily put down the wine glass. The movement was abrupt enough that some of the remnants sloshed over the lip of the glass.

"So," she choked, and the tone in her voice broke his _fucking_ heart. "This is it, huh? Nice home cooked dinner, a red glass of wine, a casually tossed out 'Usako' before you say goodbye?" Her eyes were hardened, and filled with anger as they focused on him. _She thought he was leaving her?_

The plates rattled as he placed them back down on the counter, and his hands trembled as he reached out to her. He expected her to pull back sharply, but she didn't, though her posture was unyielding, as he took her hand in his. "What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded with conviction, "I'm not going anywhere," he said, and though she scoffed, and rolled her eyes, he knew her well enough to see the pain etched into her face. _What the fuck had happened between them?_ They'd been happy in this world once. He'd seen it in the wedding picture he'd discovered in her room this morning. What had he done to make her feel this way?

He decided to take another risk, as he lifted his hand and gently cupped the side of her face, the tips of his fingers intermingling in the silky strands of her hairline and the pad of his thumb running along the length of her jaw. She inhaled sharply, eyes widening, and lips parting slightly in surprise, but she didn't pull away.

He fought the urge to lean down and kiss her and instead stared into her eyes, praying that he was conveying the sincerity he felt. "I'm not sure how things got this bad, Usako, but this is _not_ a goodbye dinner. I wanted to come home early and do something nice for my beautiful wife. Is that okay? Will you please have dinner with me?" he whispered, each word filled with conviction and a desperate need to make her understand.

He waited with bated breath for her response, and he was relieved when her stiffened posture finally relaxed, and she nodded mutely, clearly at a loss for words. He smiled and reluctantly pulled away, turning back towards the discarded plates and utensils. He handed her one and picked up the other.

It was quiet, awkward even, as they made their way into the dining room. Mamoru was pleasantly surprised by this room and was happy to see that there wasn't some pretentiously large table in the middle of a spacious area. Instead, there was a small oak table with four polished cedar wood chairs with brightly coloured cushioned seats. It was nice to see a room that looked _lived_ in and a piece of furniture that wasn't white.

He sat down in the closest chair, and Usagi sat across from him. They ate in silence for a couple of minutes as he surreptitiously watched her. Her hardened look quickly melted into one of bliss as she took a bite of her meal. Her eyes closed, as she moaned in delight as she chewed. The sounds drove him so crazy that his fork froze midair, forgotten, as he watched her.

His brow furrowed when he noticed that, though she was enjoying the meal, she was barely eating. Not like the Usako, he knew, anyway, who would have inhaled her meal so quickly that he wouldn't have had time to take even a bite. She noticed his stare, and the red blush that spread over her cheeks was so damn adorable, he thought that he might die if he didn't get her out of this damn nightmare, and into his arms, _soon_. He cleared his throat, placed his fork down, and smiled at her. He needed to spark something. He only needed her to admit that she loved him out loud and this could all be over.

Her eyes met his, and the uncertainty there was painful. "How was your day, Usako?" he questioned. This was a good place to start.

She frowned, and he thought that she might not answer until she shrugged. "It was fine, I met with the girls this morning," she responded, and he was pleased that there wasn't a hint of venom or sarcasm in her tone.

He smiled encouragingly, "How are the girls?" he questioned, because he wanted to keep the conversation going and because he desperately needed to know what was going on.

Her frown deepened, and she pushed some food around on her plate. "They're fine, Mamoru. Rei is getting married next September, Jed finally proposed," she began and glanced up at him questioningly. He bit the inside of his cheek to suppress an angry growl. He'd really hurt her, somehow, for her to feel so damn hesitant around him. He nodded, cocked his head to the side and smiled in what he hoped was an invitation for her to continue.

She thought about it for a minute, then shrugged. "Makoto got a job at that bakery, she's seeing a new guy. I've never met him, but she seems happy. Um, Minako - well, I don't know what's up with her, she was so weird today, and Ami -" his breath hitched at the mention of the blunette that he'd apparently considered leaving her for. "You see her more than I do these days," she said, and he was relieved that her words were not accusing.

"That's good, Usako," he said, and she nodded, as the conversation died and the silence became deafening again. _Damn._ He hated this. He needed to know _more_.

He leaned back in his chair, taking a sip from his glass of wine as he considered his next question. He decided to take another risk, "Did you work, today?" he asked, hoping she'd reveal something else.

This time, the risk was a bad idea, as she inhaled sharply and her face contorted into a look of surprised hurt. "Is that some kind of a sick joke?" she said hoarsely, her body trembling with anger.

He swallowed deeply, slowly lowering the wine glass onto the table, as he regarded her remorsefully. _Fuck, what had he said?_ "Usako, I didn't-" he began, and she abruptly interrupted him.

"Is that what all of this is about? The food, the fucking 'I'll never leave you' bullshit? You want me to go back to work?" she hissed, and the chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floors and fell back onto the ground with a resounding crash as she stood. She braced her hands on the table, leaning forward, her eyes flashing fire and burning into him. "You were the one that kept me here, your poor broken wife, too unstable to work - too fucking _crazy_ for polite society!" she snapped, but this time her voice broke as she choked on a whimpered sob.

He could only watch her with a horrified, heartbroken expression as the tears began to roll down her cheeks in torrential droves. He reached for her, his hand covering hers, but she pulled away as if he'd burned her. "Usako," he breathed, so desperate to soothe the pain emanating from her, "Why would I ever think that you're unstable?" he asked, and in retrospect, it really was a stupid thing to say, and he regretted the words the moment they left his lips.

He had just been so desperate to know what it was that he'd done without coming right out and asking her.

She gasped, her face turning into a ghastly shade of _white,_ as she shook her head in anguished disbelief. "Oh God, Mamoru," she choked, unfettered agony laced into her words. "I knew you'd changed, that you didn't love me anymore, but I didn't know you were cruel," she whispered brokenly and began to sob in earnest as she buried her head in her hands.

He jumped out of his chair then, the piece of furniture crashing to the floor just like hers. He reached across the table, desperate to soothe the devastation etched into every contour of her body. His vision blurred, his heart clenched, and his throat constricted so tightly he didn't think he'd ever be able to breathe normally again.

Her head shot up, her eyes narrowed into a red-rimmed glare, as she viciously pulled away from him, "Screw you, Mamoru," she spat hatefully, before pulling away, stepping around the table and flying past him in a furious blur.

He flinched at the sound of her door slamming loudly upstairs.

He groaned, leaning against the table as he attempted to catch his breath. _What the hell had that been about?_ He swore he could still feel the agony that had emanated off of Usagi still threaded into the energy in the room, even in her absence.

He obviously wouldn't be able to do this on his own, and he prayed that Minako fared better than he had.

oOo

All the coffee in the world wouldn't be able to flush out the exhaustion fogging up his brain the next morning. He'd barely slept, feeling cold and bereft in the foreign bedroom. Especially with the agonizing knowledge that Usagi was just on the other side of the wall, feeling heartbroken over something he'd done, but couldn't remember.

He hadn't been sure how to proceed when he'd woken up, bleary-eyed and tired, after a restless night of wishing he could go to her. He'd briefly entertained the idea of going into her room to talk, but when he'd placed his hand on her door handle, his heart in his throat, it was only to discover that it was locked. He'd contemplated knocking with his forehead pressed against the wood and his eyes closed miserably. He couldn't, though. Not until he figured out _what the hell_ had happened between them. It was probably best if he left her alone to avoid the risk of saying something that might set her off again.

So, he'd gone to the hospital for his scheduled shift instead. It occurred to him, on his way there, that he had no idea how to contact Minako. He didn't know anything about the blonde-haired Senshi of Venus in this world. In fact, he felt like an idiot with the realization that he hadn't even thought to ask her before she'd confidently bounded out of his office the day before.

It was a risk, given Kunzites current inclinations towards him, but he fully intended to ask him how to find her. The thought made him grimace, and he pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his eyes shut in a half-hearted attempt to ward off an oncoming migraine he could feel pulsing warningly at the back of his skull.

As it turned out, he didn't have to seek out the blonde as she was, once again, waiting for him, standing just outside of his office.

She was dressed in a form-fitting black dress, her hair pulled back with her signature red bow, as she casually leaned against the wall with a black purse clutched in the crook of her arm. An annoyed look graced her facial features, her eyes glinting with frustration, as she waited for him. Her scowl only intensified at his approach, and she stiffened, with pursed lips, as she held up an iPhone and waved it at him.

"What the hell, Mamoru?" She snapped, and he winced as the loud shrill sounding tone of her voice sent a shot of pain through his head. "I have been texting you, like, non-stop! I know we're the only ones that remember in this world, but has your brain _forgotten_ how to work something as simple as a _cell phone?_ " she hissed, her voice dripping with righteous indignation.

He sighed, taking a moment to pray for patience, before matching her glare. "Minako, I haven't touched a cellphone since I woke up here," he practically growled, and her eyes widened in disbelief.

"What?!" she exclaimed, pushing away from the wall and stalking towards him, absolutely horrified. "You're kidding, right? You didn't even _think_ to look for your cell phone?" She shook her head, her glossy hair twisting around her shoulders with the movement.

"Are you _absolutely_ positive you managed to escape the nightmares before this one?" she demanded condescendingly. He sighed with defeat and moved around her, pulling keys from his jacket pocket to unlock his office door.

"Because you know what, Mamoru? I'm really doubting your abilities right now-" she ranted, moving closer to him as he fumbled for the correct one, and attempted to insert it into the steel slot.

"-I mean, who the hell doesn't look for their cellphone? Do you know how many _important_ things I texted you?- "

It was the wrong _damn_ key, and he sucked in a deep breath, inwardly reaching for the last bit of patience that he possessed to be able to manage Minako.

"-Please tell me that you did _not_ interact with Usagi last night - "

He did give her a sharp, sideways look at that comment as he finally managed to get the door open. The blonde swept past him, her hair whipping his face as she did so, and he pressed his lips together tightly as he followed her in. He did not feel like he had the mental capabilities to handle this today.

The door automatically shut behind them with an echoing click, and Minako practically bounced over to his desk, tossed her purse onto its polished surface and began to rummage through his drawers.

He considered himself a patient person, he honestly did, but he was going to lose it soon. "Minako," he said through gritted teeth, and her head snapped up curiously. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded with irritation. He needed to know what she'd discovered, and he was not in the mood for her antics.

She rolled her eyes, and then snapped the drawer shut disappointedly. "I was looking for another lollipop, _obviously_. I missed dinner _and_ breakfast with all of the sleuthing I've been doing -" she scoffed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I thought you were going to be a doctor for kids? If you _were_ a doctor for kids, there would totally be lollipops here-"

He took a deep, calming breath, fighting back the urge to shout at her. "I swear to God, Minako. I'm hanging on by a thread. _What_ did you find out?" he whispered warningly.

Minako snorted, cocked her head to the side, and arched a golden eyebrow. "You would already _know_ if you had your cell phone -" she began, but he promptly interrupted her.

"Minako!"

She held her hands up defensively. "Okay! Jeez, I thought Usagi was the one that wasn't a morning person? Calm your cows, Mamoru!" She said, and he shook his head in quiet disbelief, fighting back the slightly hysterical laughter that was beginning to bubble up in his chest.

"Horses, Minako," he choked.

She rolled her eyes, _again,_ and waved her hand dismissively. "Whatever!" she snapped then pulled out her phone, a slender finger deftly scrolling on the screen. "Look, do you want to hear this _or not?_ Because let me tell you, it's not good," she said darkly, and his expression instantly sobered.

His heart skipped a beat, and a nervous lump of dread settled uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.

She looked up from her phone, the usual mischievously haughty look in her eyes replaced with sympathetic pity. "Okay, so, first of all. I had to get your number from Ami - who is seriously screwed up over you right now, _by the way,_ " she said angrily, and he gritted his teeth.

"Minako. _Please_ ," he whispered hoarsely, and Minako pressed her lips shut, a look of contrition etched into her face.

"Right, I'm sorry. Anyways, well, ugh, here - " she said and thrust her pink-cased device towards him. "Just look," she whispered, and his hand trembled as he took the phone from her.

It was a picture of him and Usagi. They were both smiling, happily laughing at the camera, but what _really_ caught his eye was that his arms were wrapped around her midsection. His hands resting on her _very_ protruding stomach. His eyes widened, and he choked on the dread that bubbled up into his throat. Usagi was pregnant in this picture; _very pregnant._

His head snapped up as he clutched the phone so tightly in his hand, he thought it might bend under the pressure. His horrified gaze met her sad one. "What the hell does this mean, Minako?" he demanded hoarsely, and Minako grimaced,

The blonde sighed, tugging on the tips of her hair nervously. "It's exactly what it looks like Mamoru," she said hesitantly, and it was the first time he'd ever seen Aino Minako carefully consider her words. "So, from what I understand, based on what Rei and Mako have said, you were both happy. So very happy," her eyes glistened, and her voice lowered an octave. He shook - because he suspected now, what she was about to say and damn. He _couldn't_ handle _it_.

"Then Usagi got pregnant when you were just starting your residency, Mamoru. You guys were so excited, and Usagi was just beautiful, apparently, all glowing and _totally_ in love," Minako whispered, and her voice broke slightly with emotion. He knew that she was picturing the same exact thing that he was. It was such a beautiful vision; Usagi, his warm, bright and _pregnant wife._ It felt like his heart was going to explode in his fucking chest. "There were complications, something awful that I didn't understand, and at 36 weeks Usagi gave birth to a stillborn baby girl," her voice was painfully low now. The devastation he was feeling mirrored in her expression.

He dropped her phone unceremoniously onto his desk, his palms slick with sweat as he grasped the mahogany surface, leaning forward as he desperately tried to ground himself. _This isn't real. It's just a fucking nightmare._

Minako's small hand covered his, and he lifted his head to meet her gaze. She was biting her lower lip nervously, and he realized with a start that _there was more,_ and that made sense. There had to be more, because how had they gone from happily expecting a baby to hating each other?

He painfully swallowed, the tension coiled so tightly in his muscles he thought that he might snap. "Spit it out, Minako," the baritone of his voice raspy and anguished.

Minako's eyes hardened resolutely, and she nodded. "In our world, the real one, you guys would have totally leaned on each other. We're Senshi, and you guys are _soulmates,_ but here… well, here you guys drifted apart. Usagi had a breakdown, and she wouldn't eat, and she cried almost all day long," she whispered, and he painfully waited for it. Oh, God. _He couldn't breathe._ "And, I know the you of this world was probably devastated too, but you didn't help her, Mamoru. You went to work, and you stayed at work all the time. Rei says that there was a point when you both couldn't stand to look at each other."

His knees buckled and it took every ounce of willpower that he had not to collapse onto the floor. How the hell could he fix that? She'd not only lost a baby, _their baby,_ but he'd fucking abandoned her? Her words, the broken ones she'd said the night before, resonated painfully in his memory.

" _You were the one that kept me here, your poor broken wife, too unstable to work - too fucking crazy for polite society!"_

"Oh, God. Minako," he gasped, stepping back in horror and raking his hands through his hair. "I screwed it up. How the hell am I going to fix this? And I was going to _leave_ her for Ami, Minako," he choked, his eyes filled with pleading helplessness.

Minako's shared grief-stricken look melted away, and a painfully white smile lit up her face. "Mamoru, do you think I would come here and tell you all of this awful, heart-wrenching stuff, _without_ a _plan?"_ She quipped excitedly, and he shook his head. How could this possibly be salvageable?

Minako scornfully tsked, and with a disgruntled huff leant down and scooped up her phone. "Oh ye, of little faith," she muttered under her breath as her well-manicured fingers frantically swiped at something on the screen.

He was still drowning in despair when she thrust the phone towards him again. His jaw tightened, and his fingers flexed into fists as he eyed the phone like it was a venomous snake that might lash out if he touched it.

Minako exhaled loudly in irritation as she forcibly grasped his hand and slapped the phone into his palm. "For God's sake, Mamoru. Stop being ridiculous and press play," she snapped impatiently, and he scowled at her.

He shook his head to clear it, effectively gaining control of his emotions as he peered down at the screen, and nervously pressed play.

His breath hitched in his throat as Usagi popped onto the screen, she was holding the phone away from her bikini-clad body, a bright smile on her face as she lay pressed onto, what appeared to be, a white sandy beach.

" _Hi, Mina! I thought you could use this video for your vlog!"_ video-Usako exclaimed excitedly, and he swallowed around the painful lump in his throat. She was so damn beautiful. " _So, I'm on my honeymoon, and this is beautiful Calypso Shores villa in Montego Bay Jamaica!"_ She said, her voice laced with excitement as she pulled the phone away and panned out over a beautiful white sandy beach, and a lavish beachfront villa. She turned the camera back towards herself, and she looked breathless, sun-kissed, and everything he imagined she'd look like on their honeymoon. _"No, but for real Minako. This place is so beautiful! It's the most magical place on the entire planet, and I swear that me and Mamo-Chan will be coming back here every year! Maybe twice a year! And-"_ she stopped and squealed happily, the image of the video blurring as her hand dropped.

" _Oh yeah? And who's going to pay for all of these trips to Jamaica, Usako?"_ It was his voice, the deep chords of his tone teasing and tender. Usagi giggled, and though he couldn't see it, because the phone had tumbled face down into the sand, he heard her sigh and the telltale sound of them kissing. " _Turn off your phone, Usa. Let's go swimming,"_ video-Mamoru murmured playfully, and Usagi's face came into view again, along with his, as she held the phone up.

" _Bye Mina!"_ She laughed breathlessly, " _Say bye, Mamo-chan!"_ she said, and he watched as the video version of himself rolled his eyes, pulled his blonde into his arms and tenderly kissed her neck.

" _Goodbye, Mina. Don't call us!"_ He said, and Usagi squealed as the phone was yanked from her hand and the video abruptly stopped.

He stood there, frozen, his lungs compressed like the wind had been knocked out of him. _That_ was what he wanted with Usagi. His eyes watered and he blinked twice before looking up at Minako. What had been the fucking point of that? To show him everything he'd lost in this nightmare, and _risked_ losing in the real world if he couldn't make Usagi love him again?

"What the hell was the point of that, Minako?" he demanded furiously, his hands tightening around her phone. "Are you trying to torture me?"

Minako sighed with exasperation and plucked her phone from his hand. She leaned over, grasped the leather handles of her purse, unzipped the top and reached inside. She pulled out a tan manila folder and wordlessly handed it to him.

He frowned, took it from her and tentatively pulled it open. There was a stack of papers tucked inside, but what caught his eye right away were two boarding passes to Montego Bay Jamaica.

"So, it's only for three days - because Jamaica is damn expensive, and I cleaned out my bank account for that, but it should do the trick. You guys are destined to be together, after all, and all you have to do is get her to admit she loves you," Minako whispered with conviction, as she firmly held his gaze with her own. "The rest of that stuff is all the information I could find. We text a lot, apparently, so that's everything she's ever said about you. There's an itinerary there, of your first trip, so you know what you guys did," she said, and then smiled softly. "This trip was apparently really important to her, Mamoru. So don't screw it up," Minako said, but her words lacked the intended admonishment. There was a desperation and a sadness laced into her tone that he'd never heard before.

He shook his head, eyes narrowed in confusion. _This_ was her idea? "Minako," he muttered, "How the hell do you expect me to get Usagi to Jamaica? She can't even stand to be in the same room with me," he spat, his tone filled with self-loathing, the disastrous dinner from the night before replaying in his mind.

Minako furrowed her brows and chewed her bottom lip in contemplation. "Well, I can't think of _everything,_ Mamoru," she snapped loftily. "She's still married to you, isn't she? She doesn't hate you as much as you think she does."

The coils serpentined around his heart loosened at Minako's words, and for the first time since he'd woken up here, he felt a sense of hope. It was overwhelming, the task that had been set before him, but he would never give up on Usagi. No matter what horrifying world they put them in. His resolve strengthened, and he nodded with determination. He would never have been able to do this without Minako. He wouldn't have even known where to start. He was eternally grateful, at that moment, for the irritating Senshi of love that had provided him with everything he needed to save his future wife.

He offered her a grateful smile. "Thank you, Minako," he said appreciatively, and Minako blushed, and shrugged with forced nonchalance.

"Well, just make sure you fix this because if you don't, you owe me a ton of money," she said and skipped around him and towards the door. He was sure that she was going to slip out as quickly as she had yesterday, but she halted suddenly, her hand poised on the door handle.

He frowned in confusion, "Minako?" he questioned, and the blonde whirled back toward him. There was a nervous look carved into the soft features of her face, and his eyes widened in astonishment as she began to wring her hands. There was a vulnerability emanating from the Senshi that he'd never seen before.

She took a deep, dramatic breath, "Okay, so, here's the thing," she blurted and shifted uncomfortably. "So, apparently in this world, I'm sort of… um… promiscuous?" she said, her voice rising just like the hairs on the back of his neck at her words.

 _Fuck._ Kunzites words flashed through his mind, and his stomach churned violently, "Oh God, Minako, we didn't-" her eyes widened, and she gasped, effectively interrupting him.

"Oh my God, no!" she choked, "Gross! No!"

He exhaled a breath of relief and decided to let the 'gross' insult slide.

"No, the only reason I'm saying that is because I've been seeing Kunzite, and apparently the Minako of this world is a total bitch that totally blew him off," she spat with self-deprecation as she averted her gaze. "Anyways, if the voicemails he left me are any indication, he's still in love with me. Well, I was wondering if it would be alright, since you'll be away with Usagi _anyways,_ if I could pursue him," she murmured, then gave him a sheepish smile.

He shook his head in confusion, his brows knit as he regarded her. "I'm not sure I understand what you're asking me, Minako," he questioned, and the blonde shot him an annoyed glare, a flush spreading across her cheeks.

"My number one purpose, the single most important duty that I have as Senshi leader, is to ensure that Usagi is taken care of. I promise you that I will always do that, but…" she trailed off, gathering the courage to ask what he already knew she wanted to say.

"Minako, you don't need my permission for this."

Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip and nodded curtly. "Thank you," she whispered hoarsely, "I don't know if he's actually alive, and to spend time with him, even for the few days that you're gone, well that… I just -" she swallowed, unable to finish her sentence and he offered her, what he hoped, was an encouraging smile.

"Go, Mina," he said, and it was tentative, but her lips curled into a dazzling grin.

"Good luck sweeping the princess off her hands, Romeo!" Minako exclaimed as she exuberantly swung the door open.

He rolled his eyes and sighed with exasperation. "Feet, Mina!" he shouted after her, but she was a flurried tornado of love and light, and the Senshi of love was already halfway down the hall.

oOo

He spent the rest of the morning when he probably should have been seeing patients, pouring over the text messages that Minako had meticulously copied into a document and printed out for him. There was page after page of desperate, heart-wrenching pleas that Usagi had sent to her friend. Each one ripped at his heart more than the last, and he knew, without a doubt, that he _hated_ the Mamoru of this world.

" _Minako, sometimes it feels like I can't breathe."_

The messages escalated, and it was painfully clear that Usagi had dealt with her grief and devastation on her own.

" _I washed my hair today, do you think he'll even notice?"_

How could he have _possibly_ treated her that way? It was apparent that he'd been too busy working, slowly losing her, and it was as if he hadn't even noticed that she was pulling away from him. How could he fix the damage he'd done?

" _No, he didn't say that Minako, but you should see the way he looks at me now! I fucking hate this house."_

He hated that house too. Why hadn't he fucking _helped_ her?

" _He won't even let me talk about her. If I do, he snaps at me like I'm some kind of crazed psychopath. He wants me to pretend like she never existed. I can't be like him and drown myself in work. Why do I have to forget about her? Doesn't he know that I want to talk about her? I still feel like a mom, Minako. Except I don't have a baby anymore."_

He choked on his tears when reading that message, and he tried to imagine what he might have felt like, having lost a child. He could picture himself being unable to talk about it, retreating into himself, but the way he'd treated Usagi, his beautiful, grieving wife, was _fucking_ unacceptable.

 _"He hates me, Mina. That's fine. I think I hate him too. Will you come over and help me move my stuff to the spare bedroom? He won't be home any time soon anyway,"_

He'd managed to wade through half of the stalk of papers before he stuffed them back into the folder with disgust; a weight in his chest and a sour taste in his mouth. He was drowning, momentarily overwhelmed with emotion.

He allowed himself a couple more minutes to wallow in the burning rage he felt for the horrible situations that they had been forced to face. His elbows perched on the pretentious desk - _that he never would have picked out himself -_ and his head buried in his hands. He took a deep cleansing breath, strengthened his resolve, and vowed that no matter _what_ happened, he would not let himself lose control of his emotions.

That was the only way that he was going to win her back this time. He needed to put _her_ first, and the Mamoru of this nightmare had spent enough time selfishly hoarding and internalizing his strength.

He stood abruptly, formulating a plan in his head, as he gathered the folder and his jacket, and left the office. He didn't even lock it, fully intending to banish this world from existence so that he'd never have to see it again. He'd practically fled the hospital, dodging anyone that may have tried to stop him, and made his way out into the parking lot.

He didn't spare the hospital another glance as he pulled out into Tokyo's unbearable traffic. He wanted to be a doctor, and he knew that he would someday, but it was going to be _with_ Usagi by his side, happy and filled with the brightness that he remembered so well. He was done with this life.

oOo

He was dreading this more than any conversation that he'd had with Usagi; in this nightmare, the previous ones, and the real life that he was anxious to get back to. He'd agonized over it on the way 'home,' and he knew that there was only one way that he could fix this; to start bringing the light back into her eyes. He was going to have to give her a choice, no matter what the consequences were, for them and their fate in this world.

His heart was hammering against his ribcage when he stepped into the genkan, shutting the door as quietly as possible behind him. He knew that she was home the instant he stepped into the hallway. The soft chords of music drifted out into the hall, slightly muffled, the sound of low base vibrating from the small sitting room he'd only glanced at in passing the day before.

He was slow to move, tentative and nervous about seeing her, knowing what he needed to do next. He peered through the open doorway, and his breath hitched in his throat at the sight before him. She didn't notice him standing in the doorway, and so he took a moment to study her.

She was sitting on a big _white_ leather sofa, that looked more expensive than comfortable, her small form huddled in the corner. She was dressed in a pale pink coloured dress that accented the rosy hue of her lips and the slight tinge that graced her cheeks. Her legs were curled beneath her, her bright eyes perusing the pages of a book that she held perched on her lap. Her blonde locks of hair were pulled up, the continuous strands were thrown into a messy bun at the top of her head, soft golden tendrils falling down her back, and wispy curls framing her heart-shaped face.

She was so _damn_ beautiful, it physically hurt to look at her. His heart clenched, though, as he noted that the look in her eyes did not match the tender-hearted princess he knew so well. There was a muted grace about her now, and it was beautiful in its own way. At the same time, it haunted him.

There was none of the buoyancy that had become a staple in his Usako's personality, a brightness that she'd maintained even in the face of enemies that had tried to suck everything away from her. Beryl, Nemesis, Pharaoh 50, Nehelenia, Galaxia - she'd defeated them all one by one, and _still_ she hadn't lost her shine. _No_ , it had taken _him_ and his casual dismissal to take the light from her and let it be replaced with a stoic version of Usagi that he never wanted to see again.

She looked up then, and her eyes narrowed in startled confusion as her gaze met his. "You're home early, _again_ ," she stated accusingly, her eyes filling with irritation at his intrusion.

He exhaled deeply, raking a hand through his hair, before nervously stepping into the sitting room. Even with the overwhelming white surfaces, it was cozier than he'd assumed. He didn't know if it was because of the fire that she had burning in the polished stone fireplace, or it was just her presence that lit up the space around her.

He strode towards her with purpose, determined to do this, banking everything on the fact that he did not believe she could ever truly hate him. Her eyes widened in confusion as he approached, and moved around a polished white, wooden coffee table. He sat down, perched on the edge of the table directly in front of her. They were so close, his knees brushed across her legs.

He was taking such a dangerous risk, and if she gave him the wrong answer, he didn't know what he was going to do. His throat constricted as he leant forward, his elbows pressing into his knees as he regarded her carefully, her expression puzzled and her lips parted slightly with surprise.

"Usako," he murmured softly, his eyes tender, pleading and filled with pain. "We need to talk," his voice broke, and he cleared his throat to forcibly dislodge the ball of emotion threatening to take over.

Her breath hitched, and the blood drained from her face. Tears were glistening in her eyes, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "This is it now, isn't it, Mamoru? You're finally going to do it," she whispered brokenly, her voice trembling with defeat. He could barely stand this.

He didn't say anything for a moment, as he watched her, and her book clattered unceremoniously onto the floor as her hand flew to her lips. He took a deep breath, willing himself to have the strength he needed to say what he did next. "Usako, do you want this to be it?" he forced the words out, and they burned as they tangled up on his tongue and clawed their way through his lips. _Please, God. Let her still want me._

A single tear fell from her eye, and it quietly slid down her face until it collided with her index finger. "What- what do you mean?" she choked through her fingers, and he smiled sadly, wishing he could reach out and take her hand in his.

He clenched his fingers into fists, visibly swallowed and forced himself to meet her gaze. "I mean, you aren't happy, Usako, and I want to know if you want to end this," he asked, and his voice was strained with agony. _Please, say no._

He'd shocked her, and she didn't say anything as she stared at him with hopeless disbelief. Her expression filled with despair, and he wondered if she was having a difficult time breathing, like him. "If you want to end this, Usako, I promise you that I won't stop you. I'll give you everything you need," he said. She gasped before choking on a whimper, and just because he couldn't stand it anymore, he reached over and pulled her hands into his own. They were trembling, and he squeezed them comfortingly.

Her eyes were wide, beseeching and her lower lip quivered. "Is - is that what you want, Mamoru?" she just barely managed to choke the words out, her voice just above a silent whisper.

He exhaled softly in relief, pleased that her immediate response hadn't been to say yes. He stared into her eyes, his expression hardening with conviction. "No. I know that things have been horrible between us, Usako, but I love you," he said firmly, a desperate edge to his voice as his hands tightened around hers.

"I know that I hurt you badly, Usa," his hand trembled, and he averted his eyes, afraid to look at her; to see the look in her anguished gaze. "Usako, I'm so sorry for what I put you through… the pain you felt must have been unbearable," he heard her sharp intake of breath, and he forced himself to meet the pain in her eyes. "I'm so damn sorry, Usa. I want to be with you, I want to make this work again," he pleaded. "You loved me once, Usako. Can you do it again?" he whispered desperately.

His broken, grief-stricken princess shook as she held back her tears. "I don't know," she choked mournfully. "I want to, Mamoru. I want to try, but so much has happened. Every time I look at you, it hurts," her tone was despondent, her inflection broken and tortured as she pulled her hands out of his and buried her face in them as she crumpled forward into torrential sobs of despair.

His eyes welled with tears, and with a groan, he pulled her into his arms. Her shoulders heaved as she sobbed and her fingers curled into the front of his shirt. He let her cry as he softly stroked her hair with one hand and coiled his other arm around her waist, pulling her onto his lap.

His hand grazed her side, and he choked, devastated with the realization of how thin she'd become. So much thinner than she'd ever been. She was so small and fragile, he thought she might snap if he held her too tightly.

It was several minutes until her tears subsided, and she hiccuped, flexing her fingers in the fabric of his shirt. He regained control of his emotions, and just held her while he waited for her to ride out this wave of agony. When she finally pulled away and peered up at him from beneath wet, lacy black lashes, he noted that there was a sad crestfallen look in her eyes.

"I'm not sure if we can make it through this, Mamoru. Maybe…" she trailed off, averting her red-rimmed gaze and biting her lip nervously.

His eyes hardened, his lips pressed into a grim, but determined, line as he tightened his arms around her. "Can we try? Will, you at least give me a chance, Usako?" he pleaded, and he knew, by the look of pity in her eyes, that she didn't think it would matter. "Please, give me a second chance to make this right, Usagi. I want to make this better for you," the imploring desperation laced painfully into his words. "Will you let me try, one more time, to be the man that I used to be? The one that deserved to be with someone like you? " he whispered, and her eyes widened fearfully as she scrutinized his face.

He waited with bated breath as several moments passed, as she considered it, still poised in his arms. He felt like weeping with relief when she leaned forward, with a sigh, pressed her forehead onto his collarbone. He could feel her hot breath through the fabric of his shirt, and he swallowed painfully and clenched his eyes shut as he readjusted her on his lap and tucked her head beneath his chin.

"Okay, Mamoru," she murmured softly. "We can try," she said quietly, and he released, what felt like, the first full breath since he'd arrived here.

oOo

He'd never been to Jamaica before, _not that he could remember anyway_ , so the 16-hour flight had been unexpected. It probably would have been more bearable if he could have spent that time actually talking to Usagi, but they definitely were not at that point yet. The tension between them was so palpable even the stewardess had visibly winced, and then made a concerted effort to avoid their row for the rest of the trip.

Usagi was quiet, reserved, and she rarely smiled. When he tried to spark a conversation, it was like pulling teeth, and not only did she respond with crisp one-word answers, but her eyes filled with tears every time she looked at him. He hadn't been able to touch her since the afternoon that he'd pulled her shuddering body into his arms, and every time he tried, she pulled away, flinching as if he'd burned her.

What alarmed him even more, was the fact that she rarely ate. She'd turned down all three meals that they'd offered her on the flight, except for a piece of bread that she absentmindedly nibbled on, while staring forlornly out the plane window. He was a doctor in this world, wasn't he?! How the hell had he missed the dark circles under her eyes, the way that her clothes hung off her too-thin form? Not to mention that Usagi had _always_ possessed an insatiable appetite. His little ball of sunshine ate with the same gusto that she afforded everything and person in her life, and now she was _starving_ herself? She was his wife, but they may as well have been strangers. It was the most painful sixteen hours that he'd ever spent with his Usako.

His confidence in his ability to have Usagi fall back in love with him was admittedly shaken when their plane landed on the tarmac and pulled into the airport in sunny Jamaica. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure that this had been a good idea to begin with, given that no matter how long he'd poured over Minako's itinerary of their first trip, he didn't actually _remember_ it, and there was a huge possibility that he was going to say something to fuck this up.

He inwardly cursed Minako as they made their way off of the plane and into the Sangster international airport in Montego Bay. It was bustling with tourists from all over the world as they made their way through customs and into the main lobby area to retrieve their luggage. It was modestly sized, well maintained with windows from floor to ceiling, showing off the lush tropical greenery outside and allowing the sun's rays to pierce through the glass, brightly lighting up the whole airport.

The energy in the atmosphere was laid back, filled with excited anticipation that was only prevalent in vacationers that were finally unwinding from the lives that they had left behind them. It was infectious, and he wanted so very badly to share this with Usagi.

It wasn't going to happen, though. They hadn't said a word to each other since landing, and he could feel the frustration bubbling up in his chest as he surreptitiously watched her in his peripheral view.

The crowd thickened when they reached the line of shops and money exchange locations, and his heart skipped a beat when he realized that he'd lost her in the crowd. His eyes narrowed as he worriedly scanned their surroundings, his gaze perusing the various array of people bustling happily along when he caught sight of her blonde hair amongst the sea of people.

He just made it to her in time to watch her trip and stumble into the arms of a short blonde haired person that he recognized immediately. "Oh hey, are you okay there, kitten?" Haruka practically purred, a golden brow arched as she helped steady Usagi.

Usagi blushed, as she quickly stepped back just as he reached her and lightly grasped her elbow. "Are you alright?" he murmured softly, and Usagi glanced up at him with an embarrassed expression, and nodded mutely.

He glanced back at Haruka, whose lips were curled into a sardonic smile, her eyes shining with curiosity as she glanced between them. "Thank you," he said and wondered if he was supposed to know the Senshi of Uranus in this world, though, by the look on her face, he doubted that he did.

Haruka shrugged nonchalantly and offered them a grin, "No worries, a lot of people pushing their way through here. Is this your first time in Jamaica?" Haruka questioned, and it had been directed towards Usagi. He did not miss the hard glint in her eyes when she'd glanced at him.

He gritted his teeth, knowing what it must look like. Usagi, exhausted, slightly gaunt and not able to look him in the eye. It appeared that the Senshi, even in this world, felt the innate urge to protect her.

Usagi smiled, though it was more of a crestfallen smile, tinged with sadness. "No, we've been here before, for our Honeymoon," Usagi said softly, and Haruka appeared to consider her words carefully.

"I see. I'm here with my wife as well. Where are you guys staying?" she prodded as she glanced back at him.

He met her cool gaze. "Calypso Shores," he responded evenly, his tone firm but reassuring. He would have liked to have had the Senshi as an ally here. Haruka scrutinized his expression for only a moment longer, apparently coming to some kind of decision before offering them both a bright smile.

"Well, what do you know? We're staying at a villa not far from there! My name is Tenou Haruka," she said, offering her hand to Usagi that tentatively took it.

"Chiba Usagi," Usagi said, some warmth creeping into her voice as she offered the short haired blonde a genuine smile. It was the first time that she'd said her name. _Chiba._ He couldn't help the pleasure that curled up inside of him at the sound of his name on her lips. "This is my husband, Chiba Mamoru," she said and gestured towards him.

Haruka's eyes met his again, and the warmth that had been reserved for Usagi faded, and it didn't quite reach her smile. "It's nice to meet you. Are you here long?" She questioned, tilting her head to the side curiously.

He wasn't sure what it was that the Senshi thought that she could see in him, but she was wrong. He returned her smirk with a forced smile of his own. "We leave on Thursday," he said. He wished he could wrap his arm around Usakos waist and pull her close so that Haruka could see that he was, _in fact_ , a husband who loved his wife.

Haruka's smile faltered, and she shrugged. "That's too bad, such a short trip," she quipped then glanced down at a silver wristwatch with a brown leather band wrapped around her wrist. "I have to go, but maybe we'll see you on the beach," she said hopefully. "Take care of yourself, kitten," she said as she twirled around, buried her hands in her pockets and strode away.

He frowned after her, wondering what role she played in this nightmare when he felt Usako place a hand on his arm. He glanced down at her. Her eyes were wide, filled with inquisitive confusion.

"Are you angry, Mamoru? I'm sure he didn't mean anything when he called me kitten," she whispered hesitantly, and it took a moment before he understood what she meant.

He covered her hand with his own and smiled down at her tenderly. "I know, Usako. Are you ready to find our things and go?" He asked, inhaling sharply as her eyes remained locked onto his.

He felt something spark between them, and his hope of salvaging this quickly began to blossom once again. Until her eyes welled with tears, _again,_ and she abruptly pulled away from him.

She wrapped her arms around her midsection, blinked back the tears and nodded curtly. "Yes, I'm ready," her words were laced with a 'let's get this over with' tone that ripped at his heart, and he nodded wordlessly and began to wade his way through the crowd.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do. Why couldn't she _look_ at him? He could feel the frustration begin to build in the pit of his stomach, and he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, furtively studying her profile.

Her face looked like it was made of stone. A stoic expression carved into her delicate features as she focused on walking ahead of her.

It was difficult to see her like this, and he knew that he would do anything to see her smile.

oOo

The Calypso Shores Resort was absolutely breathtaking. It was a small villa set on a sandy bluff directly on the beach. The villa in question was a pink-bricked building, with lavish pink tiled awnings held up by white marble beams. Quaint cobblestone pathways and lush tropical greenery framed the establishment, whose walls were filled with windows and delicate french doors. Just off to the side was a brightly lit pool with crystal blue water, though he wasn't sure why there was a need for a pool when the beach was literally only 6 steps away from the edge of the property.

It was open, lavish, and he could picture Usagi splayed out on one of the cushioned, floral patterned chairs, bathing in the warmth of the sun. The villa was meant for a maximum of four couples. Luckily, they were the only ones that had booked these particular days so they would have the house to themselves.

Though he wasn't really sure if _that_ mattered as, other than a small gasp of delight when they'd first stepped into the brightly lit main room, Usagi had barely looked at him. The look on her face was still set in stone, hardened and tinged with a miserable sadness that he couldn't erase, no matter what he said.

The interior was just as beautiful as the exterior; lush, earthy tones on all the upholstery, with brown tiled floors and brightly painted yellow walls. He let Usagi take the lead and, hoisting the straps of their luggage more securely on this shoulder, he followed her to their designated bedroom.

It was bright, airy, with a four-poster king size bed pressed along the wall. There was a gossamer material draped over it with richly embroidered blankets and pillows in earthy tropical colours on its plush surface. The back wall was made up purely of glass-paned windows, and intricately hand painted french doors that opened directly onto the beach. The sounds of the ocean intermingled with the muffled chords of upbeat music from a distant party wafted into the room, along with the warm breeze that ruffled the sheer white curtains and the wispy curls that framed Usagi's face.

He stood frozen in place as she slowly moved towards the doors, a nostalgic smile on her lips and a hint of sorrow in the blue pools of her eyes. She placed a delicate hand on the door frame, slender fingers curling around the wood as she peered outside, enshrouded like an angel by the bright sunlight.

It couldn't continue on like this, and he thought maybe this setting, the brightly lit paradise of their contrived past, may have been the last place to bring her. She was clearly haunted by the memories of what they had been.

He dropped the bags onto the floor, and cleared his throat, feeling like it was tightened with defeat. It wasn't too late. They could go home, and he could try something new. She turned towards him, her eyes furrowed curiously.

The words he wanted to say tangled up on his tongue, and he must have looked like an idiot, standing there with his mouth open. He sighed with frustration and raked his hand through his hair. He wanted this to be on her terms, but damn, he was at a loss. He didn't know what to do. His Usako had always been an open book, her emotions always so easy to read. But here, he had no idea what she was thinking.

She took two tentative steps towards him before stopping and wringing her hands nervously. "What is it?" she whispered quietly.

He frowned, carefully considering his words, and trying desperately to suppress his own frustration from seeping into his voice. "Usako, I'm sorry -" he choked the words out, "I'm not sure why I thought this would be a good idea. I didn't mean to make things even worse," he said miserably, and her head snapped up, eyes wide as she met his gaze with a look of surprise on her face.

"What do you mean?" she said, startled, a panicked edge sharpening each word she spoke.

An involuntary bark of disbelieving laughter bubbled up in his throat, and he shook his head with contrition. "God, Usagi. What do you mean, what do I mean?" he snapped hoarsely, his eyes hardening with self-loathing. "You're miserable. Every single moment since we left that godforsaken house has been strained and downright painful," he spat, and he couldn't help the escalating anger now. What had been done to her was awful, but it had been done by a Mamoru that was not him. This was a nightmare that had been purposefully crafted to torture them. He was tired of feeling guilty for something that he would _never in a million years_ do to her.

She inhaled sharply, her eyes darkening indignantly as her fingers clenched into tiny fists. "What? I'm not miserable," she retorted hotly, shaking her head in adamant denial.

He inhaled deeply, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Yes, you are. I know that you hate me, but you said that we could try -" he began but was interrupted as she firmly interjected.

"Mamoru, I don't hate you," she snapped angrily. He couldn't help it after that. The helplessness, the anger and the frustration that had been simmering hotly just beneath the surface poured out into his words.

"It's obvious that you hate me, Usako. I don't even _blame_ you for it. I know what you've been through, but damn. How can I make this better if you won't even look at me?" he pleaded, the desperate anger interlaced into his tone.

Her breathing quickened, a crimson tinge spreading across her cheeks. "Stop it! I don't hate you!" she spat, her eyes welling with her own tears of indignant outrage. "That's not what it is, Mamoru!" she exclaimed, her voice rising into a shout.

He strode towards her, grasping her shoulders, his eyes burning with pain. "What is it then, Usako?" he demanded. "Why can't you even look at me?"

There was a fire that flashed in her eyes, a fury that he was relieved to see because _anything_ was better than the broken devastation that seemed to be a permanent fixture in the Usako of this world. "I don't know," she hissed furiously, and he shook his head, tightening his hold on her. His fingers pressing into the skin of her bared arms.

"What is it, Usagi?" he said raspily, brokenly, refusing to accept her answer. She either hated him, or there was something else, and until they talked about it, there wasn't any way for them to heal.

She glared at him, the tears that she'd been forcibly blinking back _all day_ rolling hotly down her cheeks. "I don't know," she choked stubbornly.

There was a crack in her voice though, and it was a sign that she wasn't being truthful. _She did know._ "Usagi, what _is it?"_ he demanded again, and this time he'd managed to break through her hardened shell.

She let out a growl of frustration and forcibly pushed him away. She wasn't as strong as she was in their world, but he released her and took a step back. "I'm _afraid,_ Mamoru!" she practically screamed, her grief etched into every part of her; the tears on her face, the stance with which she held herself, and the way she visibly trembled, her rage just a front for her _fear._ "I'm afraid that _this,"_ she gestured towards him furiously, "will end the minute I turn away. Do you have any idea how long I've lived with a cold, unfeeling, _asshole?_ How many nights I prayed that the Mamoru that I fell in love would come back?" she cried, and he froze, horrified as he watched her trembling with rage. Her face was red with fury and her chest heaving with the emotion expanding within it.

He reached out towards her, desperately wishing he could pull her into his arms, but she slapped his hands away. "Usako-" he began, but she promptly interrupted him.

"No! You want me to _talk,_ Mamoru? Well, now I'm talking!" she exclaimed, and he snapped his mouth shut, swallowing down the words of comfort that had lodged themselves into his throat. This was better than the silent sadness. _It had to be._ "What am I supposed to think, after all of the arguments, the fights and then the stone cold silence?" she choked on the tears that accompanied her heated exclamation. "Doesn't it make sense that I would feel terrified that I would blink, and the person I wished was still here, might disappear again? I don't know which version of you is going to wake up tomorrow, Mamoru! My cold, hateful husband? Or the one that actually _looks_ at me again, that is all of a sudden doing weird things…" she trailed off, her anger dissipating with the words she was letting go, her shoulders slumped in defeat and her eyes downcast.

He'd fucking _broken_ her. The Mamoru of this world had effectively trampled out everything he loved about her. He choked then on a sob that he hadn't realized had been bubbling up inside of him, and his vision blurred with tears that he tried to unsuccessfully blink back. _Damn,_ he'd promised himself that he wouldn't let his emotions consume him; that he would only cater to her needs. _Selfish, he was so selfish._ He turned away, trying to regain his composure, his chest heaving with the rattling breaths he was so desperately trying to control.

He jumped, suddenly, as her delicately small hands cradled his face and forcibly pulled his gaze towards hers. The pads of her thumbs wiped away the tears he hadn't realized he'd shed, and there was a look of awe shining through the tear-filled sapphire irises of her eyes.

"Mamo-chan," she whispered. "Are you crying?"

He blinked several times until his vision cleared. "I'm sorry, Usako," he murmured miserably, embarrassed that he'd let all of this emotion, the task of overcoming her hatred, overwhelm him.

She released his face, and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her head into his chest. It shocked him, and his hand shook as he tenderly interlaced his fingers in the golden strands of her hair at the back of her head.

"It's okay, Mamo-chan," she whispered, her words muffled in his shirt. "I promise that I'll try," her breath was warm, and her body was trembling in his arms.

He exhaled shakily, overcome by the feelings coursing through him as he wrapped his arms around her. He dropped his head and pressed his cheek against the silky hair at the top of her head. He inhaled deeply, relieved that despite all of the changes in Usagi, she still smelled of vanilla and lavender.

 _It was going to be alright._ She _did_ love him, even if she was confused about it right now. They had overcome everything else. They could overcome this nightmarish river of grief that should never have been hers to bear in the first place, too.

"Thank you, Usako," he murmured. "That's all I'm asking." It was strange, but it was the first time since they'd arrived that he could feel the warmth of the hot Jamaican sun.

oOo

The tension between them had lessened considerably if not all together. They'd come to a silent agreement. Usagi was tentatively warming up to him, though it was slow, hesitant, and her gaze was still filled with apprehension. They'd agreed to deviate from their original itinerary, choosing instead to spend their first day on the beach and in the villa.

They'd been treading lightly, their conversation slightly shallow, avoiding anything that would delve too deeply into the strained strings of pain still twisted up in Usagi's heart. It was difficult to watch her like this. Everything bright about her, while still there, was muted and tentative, like she was afraid that she would say something that would change him back into what he'd been before. These changes in her, the ones that the traumatic experiences of this life had created, were agonizing to see. He hated that he needed to wade through all of this pain and torment until he could remind her who she was again so that this could be over for her.

It had been an _especially_ painful moment when Usagi had emerged from the villa, dressed in a bikini. She was breathtaking, like an ethereal vision in pale pink fabric, her hair twisted into a long golden braid that hung down her back again. _But she was so thin_. His heart ached at the sight of his strong Senshi, _warrior princess,_ looking so frail and fragile. He'd needed to avert his gaze for a moment, swallowing painfully. The little shine in her eyes dulled sadly; she'd noticed.

He prepared a large lunch with the pre-ordered ingredients that he'd requested were stocked in the sleek stainless steel fridge in the kitchen. He noted that she made a concerted effort to eat more after that. He was pleased, though he could see that she was forcing down every bite he silently handed her as he cooked while she watched him, perched quietly on the beautiful marble countertop.

When he was finished cooking, rather than move to the dining room, he hopped up beside her on the counter and they ate in silence. It was a comfortable silence though, and that was a start.

When they finished eating, she was visibly perkier as she jumped off of the counter and began to rummage through the cupboards in search of something. He watched her curiously, sliding off the counter himself and leaning back on his elbows. She was like a little bikini-clad whirlwind, her face set into a look of annoyed concentration.

She let out a huff of frustration, and he raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Usako, what are you looking for?" he asked lovingly, and she graced him with a narrowed gaze over her shoulder.

"I'm looking for the wine, Mamoru. There should be wine," she said sternly, though he was delighted to see a small smile tentatively curling up on her lips.

He chuckled, "What makes you think there's wine?" he teased. He'd seen the bottles stacked in the bottom cupboard, one of the ones she'd missed, as he was cooking.

She stopped, her eyes widening in mock horror. "No wine? Well, that's going to be a problem," she deadpanned. He raised a questioning eyebrow, his expression deadly serious as their gazes locked.

She broke first, her eyes sparkling with a glint of laughter, and her smile widening into the brightest expression he'd seen on her face thus far. He inhaled sharply and wondered what would happen if he kissed her right now.

He pushed away from the counter, moving towards her, and his heart sank as her smile faded and the look of apprehension reappeared in her eyes. She wasn't ready yet. So he offered her a tender smile instead, reached around her and opened the cupboard with the racks of neatly stacked wine bottles.

The look she gave him was soft and grateful as she whirled around, bent down and carefully inspected the different varieties, pulling out a white riesling and putting it into the fridge.

She turned back towards him with a sheepish smile. "To chill, for later, around the fire," she whispered and cleared her throat nervously. "Would it be alright if I had just a couple of glasses by the fire, Mamoru?" she questioned, and he frowned in confusion.

This was apparently another thing that he did not know, and it was etched in the nervous contours in her face. "Usako, this is a vacation, right? Why would you need my permission to have wine?" he questioned tenderly, taking another step closer to her. She looked so forlorn, so small and sad, he wished she would let him hold her.

Her brow furrowed, and she blinked with surprised confusion. "Well, I just know that you don't like it when I drink," she murmured, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

He racked his brain, trying to remember if there was something written about this in Minako's carefully written notes, but he was coming up blank. He sighed, and she glanced up at him suspiciously.

He needed to think of something to say, and quickly. "Usako…" he began, "This is a clean slate, right?" Technically, it was. _For him anyway._ "You don't need my permission. I'm not your keeper. If you want to have a drink on the beach in Jamaica, you can have a drink," he said in what he hoped was a tenderly reassuring tone.

Her eyes widened, big blue orbs filled with tears, and a vulnerability that inwardly made him curse. _Damn_ , had he said the wrong thing again? He instinctively reached out towards her, his mouth open and ready to apologize for what, he wasn't sure, but she quickly stepped around him.

She furiously wiped the lone tear off her cheek, "I'm sorry, It's just that the last time I drank was the last time we fought, and …" she trailed off, swallowed, before offering him a slow, timid smile. "Mamo-chan, do you want to go swimming?" she questioned, and the tone of her voice was so reminiscent of what he was used to that he could not speak. He nodded mutely, and she reached over, grasped his wrist and tugged him outside into the sun.

oOo

They spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach. They swam, lounged about lazily on the white sand, and basked in the sun's warm rays. He mostly spent his time watching Usagi, though, and sent a silent apology for having ever doubted Minako's wisdom.

She was thriving, flourishing happily as she had in the video that Minako had shown him of their honeymoon. It was the most he'd seen her smile, though none of them had been directed towards him yet, and her involuntary moans of delight as she stretched and lolled, soaking up the rays, were driving him _insane._

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, leaving red and orange-hued streaks across the sky and Usagi shivered from the lack of warmth, they made their way back to the villa. He was delighted when Usagi grasped his hand, timidly interlacing her fingers with his, a red blush spreading adorably across her cheeks.

He loathed for this night to end, as was Usagi apparently, as she pulled the wine from the fridge and two glasses from the cupboard. She placed them tentatively on the counter and peered at him shyly from beneath lacy lashes with a silent question shining in her eyes. He didn't need to answer her out loud, he nodded, smiled tenderly, and turned to grab a coarse beach blanket that he'd discovered earlier folded up neatly in the sitting room.

He wasn't a very outdoorsy person, so it took him a few tries to light a fire in a designated fire pit strategically placed on the beach beneath the stars. He cursed with irritation as the smoke got into his eyes, but it had been worth it when he was rewarded by a soft giggle from his blonde, who sat, her legs curled beneath her on the blanket, as she poured them both a glass of wine.

When he was satisfied that it wouldn't go out on its own, and the flames began to lick greedily at the wood that had already been neatly stacked in place, he sat down beside her. She wordlessly handed him a glass, and he took it from her, swallowing deeply as his fingers grazed hers.

They settled into a comfortable silence, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the crackling of the fire soothing as he surreptitiously watched her. She seemed content as she peered into the flames, leaning back on her elbows, periodically taking a sip of wine. He wanted to say something, but it felt nice between them. He'd made leaps and bounds in progress today, and he was loathed to ruin it by saying something that might hurt her again.

He became lost in thought for several minutes, thinking of all of the things he would need to do when they escaped this nightmare. He was just beginning to silently devise a plan to stop this from happening again when she spoke.

"So, what's up with the cell phone thing, Mamoru?" she murmured gently. He turned his head, glancing at her with narrowed, confused eyes.

He had no idea what she was talking about, and there was a twinge of panic in the pit of his stomach. "I'm not sure what you mean, Usako," he murmured, and he did not need to fake the bewilderment in his tone.

She rolled her eyes, taking another big gulp of wine before sitting up and crossing her legs. "You're always on your cell phone. Even when we're sitting across from each other in the same room, you're on your phone," she said, and his heart began to race at the hard edge that had re-entered her voice at the memory. "I thought it was glued to your hand at one point!" she exclaimed, then frowned. "I haven't seen you on it in days. Did you even bring it with you?" she asked with uncertainty.

Her words echoed Minako's indignant ones, and he shrugged and grinned widely. "I needed a break from the technology, Usako," he said quietly, and she gave him a suspicious look, and finished her glass of wine.

She refilled it, the bottle clinking against the lip of her glass as she poured, and nibbled her lip in contemplation. "What about the whole Godforsaken thing?" she demanded suddenly. There was a little slur in her words, and he knew that the wine was starting to affect her.

He grinned at her, shaking his head with confusion. Again, he had no idea what she was referring too. "Usako, you're going to have to clarify what you're talking about," he said, his tone filled with loving amusement.

She snorted, her cheeks flushed from the wine, as she twisted her body towards him. "You know what I mean… you said our house was godforsaken earlier!" she exclaimed, definitely slurring now, as she lifted the wine glass to her lips again.

He cringed guiltily as he recalled having said something along those lines, and she gasped at the look on his face. "Oh my God, Mamoru! You hate it _too_?" she exclaimed excitedly, and he didn't say anything, but followed her lead and sat up cross-legged in front of her. He smirked and shrugged nonchalantly. He did hate that house, but he was surprised to hear that she did too.

She suddenly burst into laughter, and fell over backwards, landing unceremoniously onto her back. What remained in her wine glass tipped over and seeped slowly into the sand. Her laugh was like music to his ears, no matter how ridiculous the reason. He leaned over her, smirking down into her smiling face, and shook his head in amusement.

With her body weight, the amount of food she'd consumed, and the time she'd spent in the sun, he wasn't surprised that the wine had hit her so fast. Her laughter subsided suddenly, and he inhaled sharply as something shifted in between them. Her eyes widened and filled with a subtle tenderness he hadn't seen yet, as she quietly studied his face.

His heart clenched in his chest as his gaze lovingly soaked up the sight of her as well. The firelight flickered behind them, casting a dim glow on her heart-shaped face, highlighting every beautiful feature. Her lips were parted, tendrils of hair that had escaped her braid splayed out around her, and there was _that_ look. The one he remembered so well, and _Damn._ He wanted so badly to kiss her.

She smiled softly up at him, and he moved closer, his palms pressed into the grainy texture of the sand on either side of her head as he longingly stared down at her. "Hey, Mamo-chan. You know it's not fair that you can be mad at me all the time, but still be so beautiful," she slurred, giggled, and propped herself up on her elbows, bringing her face just inches from his. His breathing quickened, his eyes locked onto hers, and the sweet smell of the wine on her breath and the heat radiating from her body assaulted his senses.

He gulped, flexing his fingers in the sand to keep himself from crushing her against him. The dreamy look on her face slightly faded, and something raw and broken filled the blue pools of her eyes as they glistened brightly in the firelight. "Mamo-chan, do you still think I'm beautiful? Like you did before - before it happened?"

Her question destroyed him. It ripped at his heart. She was his fiercely beautiful warrior princess, his bright ball of sunshine, his delicately sweet little Usako. The fact that she'd ever thought, even for a fucking second, that he had believed otherwise, infuriated him.

"Usako," he choked brokenly, "Damn, Usa. Don't you know that there is nobody that is as beautiful as you?" he whispered with a resonating conviction that managed to successfully wipe that sad glistening pain from her eyes.

The intensity sizzled between them. It made his heart race, his body tighten in anticipation, and he could have lost himself in her eyes. He would have if she hadn't fallen onto her back again, her arms unable to support her as she turned her head to the side and closed her eyes with a sleepy smile.

"Hey, Mamo-chan," she murmured under her breath. "As soon as you stop spinning, you can kiss me if you want," she slurred, twisting her body onto her side, as she tucked her hands under a flushed cheek. Her lithe form splayed out beneath him.

The intensity lessened, and he sighed, then chuckled as he shook his head in amusement. She was drunk, exhausted and he needed to help her get to bed.

He sat back on his knees, leaned over and pried an arm beneath her, hoisting her up. She moaned as her head lolled onto his shoulder. He chuckled, using his other hand as leverage to pull them both to their feet.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she stumbled clumsily, but his arm tightened around her waist, and he steadied her. "Come on, Usako. Time for bed, love," he murmured, and she giggled again, the sound washing over him in warm waves like the tinkling trill of a wind chime twisting in the wind.

He stumbled only once on the way back when she pressed her lips on the crook of his neck. "'Smell nice, Mamo," she murmured against his skin, and he had to forcibly ignore the heat that pooled in the pit of his stomach at the seductive, velvety sound of her voice, and the way her fingers curled enticingly into the fabric of his shirt.

When they made it back into the bedroom, he carefully helped her lay down, and with a groan, she fell into the multitude of cushions and pillows. He tucked her beneath the covers, though it was not really needed in the heat. She sighed softly, turning onto her side, a soft smile on her lips, and it took every ounce of willpower that he possessed to turn away.

There was a pull out sofa in the sitting room, and though he was not looking forward to it, he'd fully expected to be spending the night there. He turned to leave but was stopped suddenly by Usakos hand grasping his wrist. He peered back at her, and her eyes were still closed, her face pressed into the pillow.

"Stay, Mamo-chan," she murmured sleepily, and he hesitated. "Please," she whispered, and the simple word effectively crumbled his resolve.

He crawled underneath the covers beside her, and with a contented sigh she twisted around and pressed her body against his. He swallowed past the lump of emotion in his throat, wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her close and tucked her head beneath his chin. Their legs tangled intimately together, and her hands pressed against his chest. He wondered if she could feel the way his heart was hammering against his ribcage.

She moaned contentedly again, and his hand trembled as he lifted it to stroke her hair. "Usako," he whispered, "I love you." He didn't expect an answer, as he was sure that she'd fallen asleep, which was why his heart skipped a beat when she spoke.

"I know you do, Mamo-chan. It's nice to know that you do again," the words were low, slightly inaudible, but he'd heard them. He tried to think of something to say, a response that might elicit the words he so _desperately_ needed to hear, but by the time that he did. She was fast asleep.

oOo

 **So that was part 1! Part two coming soon...** **As always, I have to thank my beautiful Bae-tas, and fellow EliteSquad moonies, Ninjette Twitch and Revy679 - check out their profiles guys. They have some great ongoing fics. fluff and Angst. Beautifully written. Also, we are looking to commission an artist! If you are interested, and would like details, please send us a message!**

 **Thanks for reading !**


	5. Chapter 3: Married to a broken heart pt2

**Part 2**

oOo

He wasn't sure what woke him the next morning. It could have been the sunshine that poured in through the windows and bathed the whole room in a bright, tropical warmth. Or it might have been the warm breeze that wafted in through the partially open french doors, along with the soothing sounds of the ocean waves crashing on the shore and the trill chords of the ring-tailed pigeons flying overhead.

If he had to guess, though, it was probably the feeling of his heart expanding with relieved elation at the sight of Usagi, still, fast asleep, and plastered intimately across his chest. Most of her braid had come undone, and there was hair splayed out everywhere, golden blonde strands spread out across his body, pillows and sheets.

He smiled softly, lifted his hand and reverently ran a lock of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. It slid around his fingers like silk before billowing back onto the pillow. It felt like a perfect moment, and he basked in it for a moment more before allowing the reality of their situation to seep back into the forefront of his mind.

He frowned; this wasn't over. He was still here, despite everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. He _knew_ that Usagi still loved him. The problem was that _she_ didn't know it yet. His frown deepened as he gently ran his hand down the length of her back, his fingers grazing her side, where he felt the edged contours of her ribs protruding through her skin. The sooner they were out of here, the better. This depressed, barely-eating version of Usako made his heart clench with anguish in his chest.

He didn't want to leave the bed, he wanted to pull her back into his arms and fall into a dreamless sleep, but things were still not as they should be, and he still wasn't sure what Usagi's reaction would be if she woke up and found herself in his arms. With a mournful sigh, he carefully maneuvered his body out from beneath her and gently lifted her so he could inch his way out of the bed without waking her.

She moaned, turned over onto her side, her hair twisting around her body as she buried her head in the pillow. He grinned, it didn't matter what world they threw her in, Usagi would _never_ be an early riser.

He padded quietly out of the bedroom into the kitchen where he pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, and two aspirin from the bathroom where they'd already deposited their toiletries. She didn't stir as he carefully placed them on the small bamboo side table beside the bed.

He'd showered, collected the beach blanket and wine glasses from outside, and was in the middle of making breakfast by the time she emerged from the bedroom. She'd somewhat tamed her hair by pulling it back into a haphazard ponytail that was slightly lopsided. Her clothes, the jean shorts and purple t-shirt from the day before, was crumpled and she tugged at the seam of her shirt self consciously, a timid grimace on her face, and a look of worry shining from her eyes.

His hand froze, his fingers tightening around the spatula handle he'd been using to flip the crepes he was making. He was again caught off-guard by the vulnerability and the devastation that surrounded his Usako. She was afraid, though he was not sure of what. He guessed it was probably of his reaction.

He swallowed down the anger he felt for the _asshole_ Mamoru of this world and instead offered her his brightest smile, hoping the love he felt for her was apparent in his eyes.

It had been effective, as the look, the one he hated, melted off her face, her stiffened shoulders relaxed and she returned his smile with a tentative one of her own. "Good morning, Mamoru," she murmured and slowly made her way into the kitchen.

He was a little disappointed by the more formal 'Mamoru,' but he was pleased by the curious look in her eyes as she sniffed at the wafting scent of the cooking food appreciatively.

He smiled tenderly, then turned back to the task at hand. "Good morning, Usako. Are you hungry?" he asked hopefully.

Her smile widened, and she nodded sheepishly, "A little," she murmured, then nibbled her lower lip nervously. "I'm really sorry about last night. I only had two glasses. I'm not sure why it hit me so fast," she apologized, her tone filled with unnecessary embarrassment and shame.

He bit the inside of his lip to suppress the self-hatred he felt at her statement. He wished he knew what the hell that was about, and he wanted to ask her what he'd done to make her feel this way. Instead, he smiled reassuringly. "I'm not really sure what you're referring to, Usako. You were adorable last night. Hopefully, you don't have a headache?" he questioned tenderly.

There was an array of emotions that crossed over her face, but he knew by the way her expression lit up, and the shine that began to glint brightly in her eyes, that he'd cracked another barrier around her. "No, actually. I feel amazing," she said, her tone filled with wonder. "Actually, Mamoru, I'm starving. Can I have two of whatever it is that you're cooking there?" she said, and his heart skipped a beat. _It was working._ He was fixing this.

He didn't say anything, simply cut off a piece still hot from the pan, speared it with a fork and handed it to her. He couldn't contain the full, stupidly excited grin on his face. "You can eat as much as you want, Usa," he replied, and she took the fork from him, hopped up onto the counter, and ate it as she watched him cook.

The remnants of the anger filled cords of tension that had still been lingering between them had wholly dissipated. Her laughter, though still a little tentative at first, came easier as did her conversation over breakfast. He made an enormous spread of crepes, fruit, jams and toast. They took it out onto the mosaic tiled patio, settled onto curved, black, iron-legged chairs around a quaint rounded bistro table with a brightly coloured stone-carved table top.

He was delighted to see her eat with the gusto he'd always been accustomed to seeing, but

the best part was that she was _actually_ talking. It was so reminiscent of his unbroken Usako that his heart soared as he watched her, while quietly eating, and listened with a grin on his face. She spoke quickly, and _excitedly_ about the things going on in her life. With each passing moment, the bubbly personality that was so uniquely his Usako became more prevalent.

She stopped suddenly, blushing, as she cleared her throat nervously. "I'm sorry, Mamoru. It just feels like we haven't talked in forever, you know?" she whispered with an embarrassed giggle, tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear self-consciously. _So beautiful._ She was so _damn_ beautiful.

He reached over the table, grasping her slender hand in his, "Usako, please stop apologizing for being yourself," he reassured, and she smiled gratefully.

They sat there for a moment more, basking in comfortable silence, before she spoke, "Mamoru, can we go to the sandy cove bar on the beach today, like we did last time?" She asked hopefully.

That had not been on the itinerary, so he had no idea what she was talking about, but he smiled and nodded anyway. "Of course, Usako. We can do whatever you want to do today," he reassured, and her responding grin and squeal of excitement was worth the risk of exposing his complete lack of knowledge in regards to their supposed previous experience here.

He cleaned up after breakfast, and she bounded into the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day.

He took a moment, leaning over the counter, hands clutching at the marbled edge as he took a deep and cleansing breath. _He was doing so well._ Though there was still grief layered beneath the uncharacteristically graceful Usako, she was so much more like the beautiful Senshi princess of his world. He was close to breaking them free; he knew he was. He just had to make sure he didn't ruin this.

He was so lost in thought, trying to manage the intermingling emotions of despair, terror and excited anticipation roiling furiously within him, that he didn't see Usagi come through the door until he felt the soft slender touch of her hand on his back. He jumped, startled and whirled around to face her.

He inhaled sharply, his heart racing at the sight before him. She looked beautiful, dressed in another pair of jean-shorts, a sheer pink top, with a white bikini cut top visible underneath. She was glowing, her skin sun-kissed from her sunbathing yesterday, but her hair... He didn't know why it felt so crucially important, but it was up in the beautifully familiar ogangoed tresses that he hadn't realized he'd missed so much.

He was so focused on her hairstyle, he almost missed the look in her eyes. They were shining with a tender sympathy that had him inhaling deeply, startled with surprise.

Her hand cupped his cheek, and she smiled softly. "Mamoru," she whispered, and he was admittedly confused, though her touch sent tingles rolling down his spine. He lifted his hand to cover hers as he leaned blissfully into her palm. "I'm sorry. I forget that this has been difficult for you, too," she whispered, her tone soft, and so _damn_ enticing.

She'd misunderstood his pain, and he almost choked on the emotion pouring over him from the look in her eyes. It was tender, _forgiving,_ and the energy between them crackled so vibrantly he couldn't breathe. This was the moment - _it had to be-_ he could feel it between them.

His fingers curled around her hand, and he turned his head, pressing a gentle kiss onto the inside of her wrist. She sucked in a breath of air, stepping closer, lips parted with shock as she peered up at him. "Usako," he whispered, his voice hoarse with his need for her. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and his eyes fixed on the rosy-hued, heart-shaped form of her lips. _Her terms._ This had to be on _her_ terms. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, and it was a plea that came from a place of desperation.

She hesitated for only a moment, before slowly nodding, as if in a trance. It was all he needed, and he cradled her face in his hands, his fingers interlaced in the wispy strands of hair that curled along her temples. He bent his head towards hers, his eyes locked onto the hooded sapphire blue orbs, glossy and filled with her equally pressing need for him. He stopped for just a moment, his lips nearly touching hers, as her breath came out in short puffs of warmth that fanned along his cheeks.

"Mamo-chan," she pleaded, her voice ragged, and he crushed his lips onto hers. He lost himself in their kiss. It was passionate, and filled with such raw intensity that all of the emotions that coursed through the brokenhearted Usako of this world poured into their kiss as her lips molded perfectly to his. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he groaned as she pressed her body against the hard expanse of his chest.

He swept his tongue over her bottom lip, coaxing them open and she whimpered as she granted him access. His hands, almost of their own accord, moved from her flushed face down the slender curve of her neck, grazing her shoulders before settling onto her hips. Their lips remained interlocked as his hands continued, trailing down her soft supple curves, as they reached the back of her thighs. In one swift movement, he hoisted her up, perched her on the edge of the counter and moved in between her legs. She gasped into his mouth, as her parted knees pressed into his hips and her ankles interlocked behind him.

He groaned, and they broke apart breathlessly so that he could tenderly trail hot kisses along the length of her jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin of her neck. Their breathing was laboured, and his hands stopped his roaming ministrations on the curves of her body as he pressed his lips onto her bared shoulder, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply.

She _had_ to be able to feel this. The emotion, the passion, the _love._ "Usako," he murmured against her skin. "I love you," he whispered.

Her body stiffened suddenly, and the energy that had burned so tangibly between them just _seconds_ before, almost instantaneously cooled. He lifted his head, startled by the change, and his eyes narrowed in confusion as he met her gaze.

Her face crumpled into a look of devastation and uncertainty. _Fuck._ He pulled away and took a step back, her legs uncurling from around him.

"Mamoru," she murmured, and he couldn't _handle_ this. How could he have misread her so badly? "I … I promised you that I'd try, and I am, and I know there's something there, but -" her eyes welled with tears again as she averted her gaze. Those damned tears of aching desperation that he'd brought back again by saying something too _soon_. _She wasn't ready_.

He sighed sadly, stepped back in front of her, cradled her face in his hands, and tilted her head up towards his. The tears had escaped, sliding down her cheeks, and he gently wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs. "It's alright. Please don't cry, Usako," he whispered reassuringly. "It's okay. We can take this at your pace," he said softly and placed a tender kiss on her forehead before stepping back and offering her his hand. It was hard, and his heart was aching, but he forced a smile onto his lips.

The look in her eyes was unsure, but she took his hand, and he pulled her off the counter. "So, the Sandy cove bar?" he said lightly, and she nodded mutely. Effectively silenced and broken again. The bright Usako that had re-emerged for a short while had buried beneath her hardened shell of sorrow. _Damn._ He was so stupid. "Okay, let's go," he said, and they made their way back out into the sun which, for some reason, felt a little colder than it had this morning.

oOo

The sandy cove beach bar was located a short ten-minute walk along the beach from the villa. He'd let her take the lead, and though it was only ten minutes, the tension, renewed from their heated embrace in the kitchen, was painfully thick in between them. He silently cursed. Despite all of the progress they'd made, she'd still shut him out again. What had the Mamoru of this world _done_ to her?

As they approached, the crowd of people, all clad in varying states of dress or more accurately, _undress,_ thickened, as did the upbeat, low base music that was being played by a live band on a raised, makeshift wooden platform. The bar itself was not very big; a large, thatched roof awning of tiki grass that covered a bamboo built counter that was gaudily decorated with bright signs, and faded surfboards. A string of multi-coloured patio lanterns draped across the wooden posts.

There were weather faded chairs and tables, mismatched and spread out along the beach in a haphazard manner. Some of them lopsided, and stuck randomly in the sand. The atmosphere of the crowd here was definitely laid back, the soothing cords of conversation, laughter and music all intermingling in the warm tropical heat around them; drinks being poured, and passed around freely.

Usagi's face lit up brightly, and he smiled tenderly, his fingers flexing with his need to pull her hand into his. He ignored the urge, though, and furtively watched her as they approached. Her body had already begun to sway to the music in anticipation. His blonde-haired beauty had always been partial to dancing.

She stepped ahead of him, eyes bright with excitement, though she still tugged at her shirt self-consciously. She jumped when he lightly touched her elbow, the brightness fading a little as she turned towards him with a nervous smile.

He could do this again. _Baby steps._ He returned her smile with a tentative one of his own. "Do you want to dance?" he murmured, and she tilted her head, a look of surprise crossing her face.

She blinked, confused, before giggling softly and shaking her head. "Mamoru, you don't dance," she said, her voice tinged with disbelieving amusement.

He grimaced. _That had apparently followed him in this world too._ "Well, what about a drink then, Usako?" he questioned, his tone suitably contrite, and her demeanour softened slightly, though there was still that damn uncertainty layered beneath her forced smile.

She shifted, nibbled her lower lip, and glanced towards the bar indecisively. "Would that be okay?" She whispered, and a cord of pained fury twisted up inside of him. He hated to see her so insecure. She'd lost their child, and he'd had the nerve to give her a hard time about drinking? _Asshole._

He controlled his momentary flash of anger at himself and smiled at her reassuringly instead. "Usako, what did I say? Clean slate," he stated firmly. "Why don't you find somewhere to sit, and I'll get us something to drink… do you want something sweet?" he had no idea what the Usako of this world enjoyed, apart from the white wine she'd had last night. He did not want to assume anything.

She shrugged, "Same thing as last time? Mojitos? I remember that they made killer mojitos here!" She exclaimed excitedly. He nodded, and just because the flushed, excited look on her face was so mesmerizing, and because he was still reeling from the painful distance that she'd reestablished between them, he leaned forward and placed a chaste, tender kiss on her forehead. Her skin warm beneath his lips.

He'd managed to surprise her, but he swivelled around and strode away before she could say anything. He pushed through a giggling group of bikini-clad woman that seemed to be congregating near the bar snapping drunken selfies and made his way to the bartender whose skin was honey-coloured and offered him a bright, white smile.

He waited only a couple of minutes for Usagi's Mojito and his whiskey sour. With a smile and a fair-sized tip, he twisted around, drinks in hand, intending to make his way back through the crowd to find Usagi. One of the selfie girls chose that moment to drunkenly step back, colliding directly into him.

He involuntarily let loose a shocked expletive as the drinks tipped in his hands, the liquid pouring down the platinum blonde haired girl's body. It rolled down the red-tinged sunburnt skin of her shoulder and soaked the front of what little clothing she was wearing.

She whirled around, her hazel eyes burning with indignant fury. "Oh my god! What the hell?" she snapped, and he opened his mouth, fully prepared to apologize, ( _even though it was technically her fault)_ when her eyes widened slightly. Her pupils dilated, and her angry stance softened instantly at the sight of him.

His eyes narrowed in confusion as a slow, seductive smile spread across red-stained lips. She took a step towards him and placed a hand on his chest. "Oh, you know what? Don't even worry about it!" she purred, then giggled with a toss of her head. He winced at the shrill sound, and quickly took a step away from her.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Sorry about that," he murmured apologetically, turning to go back to the bar for another round of drinks when her fingers curled around his wrist. He stopped and turned back towards her. _What the hell was happening, right now?_

"Oh my gosh, it's not even a problem. But you can always buy me a drink if you want to properly apologize," the woman stated, her tone dripping with a forced innocence that made him uncomfortable. _Seriously uncomfortable._ His face reddened, and the words tangled up on his tongue. Like an inexperienced idiot, he was completely flustered. How could he politely decline, and extract his wrist from her python-like grip that was currently making the hairs rise on the back of his neck? And not in a good way.

"Um," he choked out, and he glanced up with rising panic. Defeat all the monsters of his world? _Simple._ Wade through one hell-ridden nightmare after the next to save the love of his life and their friends? _Piece of cake._ Politely reject an overtly flirty woman that was _not_ Usagi? Well, _that_ was complete anxiety-ridden terror.

He coughed uncomfortably, attempting to extract his arm from her grasp, but she held on tightly with a determined glint in her eyes. "Oh, come on, handsome," she purred, running a finger along the length of his arm. "Don't pretend like you're not even interested," she scoffed dismissively.

Damn, she made him uncomfortable, sickeningly so, and he had to fight the urge to forcibly push her away from him. He looked up, and his eye caught Usagi's who stood behind the crowd of girls, watching their interaction. _Thank God_. Surely his wife would save him? He sent her a pleading look, and she responded with a mischievous smile that he _did not_ understand. It spread across her lips sweetly as she skipped over to them.

Usagi stopped beside the blonde, whose hair was gaudy looking compared to the natural deep gold of Usagi's hair, and cleared her throat. The platinum-haired seductress glanced towards Usagi, curiosity glinting from the brown hues of her eyes.

Usagi offered her a bright smile. "Hi! I see you've met my friend here. Did he give you the pickup line yet?" She said brightly, and his frown deepened in confusion. _Friend?_ What the hell?

The platinum turned fully towards Usagi and shook her head in confusion. "No, why? Does he have a pickup line?" she giggled, glancing back at him with warm eyes that inwardly made him cringe.

Usagi laughed, "Oh, totally. He adores blondes!" she exclaimed, then leaned over and whispered _loudly,_ "He's a doctor, you know. A total catch, if you ask me," her tone was filled with conspiratory glee, and he sputtered, entirely at a loss for words. Then, she glanced over at him with a playful gleam in her eyes. Was she _teasing_ him? He sighed with exasperation. _What a brat._

The woman's eyes widened and glistened hungrily, almost predatory, and she turned back towards him, blinking with excitement. "Oh! You're a doctor! That must be such a tough job," she said, and he raised an eyebrow, glancing at Usagi whose eyes were twinkling with mirth, as she took a step back to see what he would do. She was _barely_ suppressing her laughter.

He turned his full attention to the woman, opened his mouth, then shut it soundlessly at a complete loss for words. He was going to tell her that he was married, to the laughing blonde beside her _no less,_ when Usagi spoke again.

"Oh, it is. Unfortunately, he's not a very _good_ doctor," she said remorsefully. He frowned, puzzled and thoroughly bewildered by her words. What the hell was she up to?

The blonde tilted her head to the side, brow furrowed and lips puckered with confusion. "Oh? How come?" she questioned, and he opened his mouth to respond, but Usagi interrupted him... _again_.

"Oh, that's just because of all the lawsuits," she said matter of factly, and the blonde's frown deepened, along with his own. Where was she going with this?

"Lawsuits?" The blonde parroted stupidly, and Usagi shook her head sadly.

She stepped towards them again and offered the girl a pitying smile. "Yeah, I mean it's not a big deal, but when he's conducting surgery on married men, and they're sedated, he totally steals their wedding rings and puts them on. Just for fun," she said, and her tone was serious, convincing, and the look on her face so _damn_ innocent that he burst into laughter.

The girl's eyes were narrowed first in confusion as she tried to wrap her head around what Usagi had said. Then they burned with indignant fury as she took in his laughter, and her eyes glanced at his hand that did, in fact, have a wedding ring on it. Usagi stepped beside him and grasped his hand possessively, as she offered the woman a challenging glare.

The blonde sputtered, her face reddening with humiliation before she swivelled around, tossed her hair over her shoulder and stalked away.

He glanced over at Usagi, with a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk. "You could have just told her we were married," he said, but there was no admonishment in his tone, only a barely contained laughter as he had _actually_ thoroughly enjoyed her silly tactics.

Usagi chuckled and shrugged. "Where is the fun in that?" she exclaimed. "Besides, it should have been obvious, even to _her,_ how uneasy she was making you," she said, and he felt the barrier that had been rebuilt this morning melt away again. This time he vowed that he wouldn't mess it up. _Her terms._ It had to be on _her_ terms. "So, drinks?" she said excitedly. He nodded, and pulled her back towards the bar.

He noted that she did not pull her hand out of his as he ordered another round from the bartender. He snuck a sideways glance at her as they waited, and she looked utterly relaxed, her face flushed, her body swaying to the music as her gaze took in everything around her with fervent exhilaration. This was the Usako he remembered, and when her eyes met his, and her grin widened, his heart soared.

oOo

The next hour passed in a blur, both of them feeling warm, light-headed and giddy from the effects of the alcohol and the sweltering Jamaican sun. He'd forgotten, for a moment, how social Usagi was; a brightly coloured butterfly flitting from one group to the next.

She laughed, twirled and joked with the intermingling crowds of people that had all come here from different parts of the world. He'd never possessed the ability to warmly socialize like his blonde-haired princess. So he smiled and followed not far behind as he allowed her to blossom and thrive doing what she was so damn good at. She brought people together. She always had and she always would.

He was more than content to step back, watch her while making sure her drink was refilled and posing for the occasional picture that she dragged him into. She was having such a good time, a flushed flurry of brightness, that he _almost_ never wanted this moment to end.

They'd just gone for a swim and Usagi, whose buzz had worn off, invigorated by the coolness of the crystal clear water, contentedly pulled him down onto the sand. He sat beside her, and she promptly plopped her head into his lap with a blissful sigh. He smiled down at her, his fingers tentatively grazing her cheek as he tucked a damp tendril behind her ear.

Her eyes were closed, but a soft smile splayed onto her lips. He wanted to kiss her. More than anything he wanted to pull her up, wrap his arms around her body and press his lips onto hers. He gulped as the vision of her bikini-clad body straddling his lap as he passionately kissed her, caused his heart to skip a beat. He promptly, with difficulty, ignored the enticing urge and leaned back onto his elbows with a groan instead.

She sat up and leaned over him with a knowing smile on her lips. "Too much to drink, Mamo-chan?" she murmured. He couldn't tell her what the _real_ reason for his involuntary groan was, so he grinned and shrugged nonchalantly instead. She giggled and opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the deep baritones of a voice he would recognize anywhere.

"Well, fancy seeing you here, kitten," he glanced up, and Usagi twisted her body, a hand shielding her eyes from the sun as she peered up into Haruka's smirking face.

Usagi's face lit up with a warm smile. "Oh! Haruka!" she exclaimed with surprise. "It's so nice to see you again," she said with genuine pleasure.

Haruka responded with a mirthful grin. "I see that Jamaica agrees with you," the outer Senshi said enthusiastically before her intensely keen eyes fell onto him. Her smile dulled slightly, and she offered him a nod. "Mamoru, nice to see that you're both enjoying your vacation," she said cordially, and he responded with a curt nod and a sardonic smile of his own.

"Haruka, are you coming?" the soft, lilting tones of the Senshi of Neptune washed over him, as the slender woman gracefully moved towards them, stopping beside Haruka. Her glossy green hair was unbound and rippled around her like the elemental waves she could control. Her eyes were soft and bright as Haruka curled a slender arm around her waist. Usako blinked up at them in awe. He did have to admit that there was a powerful aura that was vibrating around the couple, even in this nightmare.

Haruku chuckled as she leaned over and tenderly placed a chaste kiss on Michiru's temple. "Sorry. I'm coming. I got distracted," she murmured then turned back towards them. "This is the little kitten I told you about, from the airport," Haruka said, and Michiru's eyes fell onto Usagi, a softly comforting look filling her eyes.

"Oh! Hello, how lovely to meet you," she said, her voice a perpetual baritone of softness. "My name is Tenou Michiru," she said sweetly, and Usagi stumbled slightly as she pulled herself to her feet.

He followed suit, frowning as he noticed the pink tinge of embarrassment that washed over her face. "It's very lovely to meet you, too. My name is Chiba Usagi, and this is my husband, Chiba Mamoru," she murmured, and he realized with a start, that Usagi was feeling insecure.

He didn't know if it was because of the clear intimacy that emanated between the couple or the naturally graceful manner with which Michiru held herself, but either way, it tugged at his heart. He instinctively stepped beside her, gently clasping Usagi's hand in his own to dispel her unnecessary feelings of inadequacy. Usagi squeezed his hand and offered him a grateful smile in return.

Michiru's genuine smile deepened, and she tilted her head, "Hey, we're just about to play a game of beach volleyball with some people we just met over there," Michiru exclaimed, her eyes brightening with an idea. "It just so happens that our team is short two players, why don't you guys join us?" Michiru asked, every syllable she uttered friendly and filled with a welcoming warmth that was inviting.

A perplexed look crossed Usagi's face, and she grimaced. "Um, well, I'm not very athletic," Usagi's tone was laced with nervous uncertainty. "I'd hate for you to lose because of me," she said sheepishly.

Michiru laughed softly, waving a hand, dismissing Usagi's concerns. "Oh, don't even worry about that, Usagi!" She said eagerly. "This is just for fun!" She exclaimed, promptly pulling away from Haruka, grasping Usagi's hand and tugging her down the beach towards the net that had been set up for the game.

He grinned, as he watched the pair hook arms. Usagi's laughter at something Michiru had whispered drifted behind them. His smile faded as he glanced at Haruka, and they both began to follow.

Haruka gave him a hard smile, her eyes deadly serious. "Michiru is very tender-hearted, she can heal all types of creatures. She's especially good at taking care of broken-hearted, stray kittens," she said softly, and the warning was not lost on Mamoru. He'd understood the double meaning in Haruka's words, and his suspicions from earlier at the airport were confirmed.

He glanced back at Usagi sadly. Her sorrow was so palpable, it didn't surprise him that Haruka had assumed the worst. In fact, it pleased him to know that his compassionate princess could elicit so much loyalty in her Senshi, even in a contrived nightmare that had been crafted so that Haruka should have no idea who Usagi was.

He gave the blonde-haired girl a gentle, appreciative smile. "I have no doubt about that. Compassion is an admirable quality, especially towards the broken-hearted," he said cryptically.

Haruka considered him for a moment with a contemplative frown. She seemed to come to some kind of conclusion as she nodded curtly, and her stance softened. "Hope you're good at volleyball, Chiba. Despite what Michiru says, I really don't like to lose," the blonde said amicably, before jogging ahead of him and grasping Michiru's waist, lifting the Senshi off the ground playfully.

Michiru squealed in surprise, and Usagi giggled with amusement. He grinned, then sped up until he caught up to Usagi. She automatically took his hand and peered up at him nervously.

"Mamo-chan," she whispered. "I'm terrible at sports," she said with a grimace, and he chuckled warmly, released her hand and wrapped an arm around her waist. She didn't protest, so he tucked her closer to his side as they walked.

"Usako," he murmured tenderly. "Don't worry. I'll _always_ have your back," he said, hoping to convey the true meaning behind the words. She'd understood; her brow furrowed into a small frown, and she stared ahead, lost in thought, as they followed Michiru and Haruka.

oOo

She truly _was_ terrible at sports. She'd fallen more than once, uncoordinated and unsteady. He winced as she slid painfully across the sand, missing the ball once again. At first, he could see the tears of frustration welling in her eyes. But when Haruka had said that Michiru could heal the broken-hearted, she hadn't been kidding.

Michiru had laughed lightly, dismissing every fall and every miss with a warm smile that instantly put his beautiful, sensitive wife at ease. Soon, Usagi was laughing with the others, and it wasn't long before both teams were smiling gently at the adorably clumsy girl that everyone instinctively wanted to protect.

They were having fun, that was until the other team was joined by a new player. Unfortunately, it was the platinum-blonde haired girl from earlier, and she was not in a forgiving mood. She also happened to be very good at beach volleyball. It was becoming painfully obvious that the platinum blonde, whose name was Kaori, had one purpose; to thoroughly humiliate Usagi. It didn't matter how often he attempted to intercede on Usagi's behalf, Kaori directed every powerful spike towards her.

She'd just delivered a particularly powerful blow, that he hadn't been able to catch in time, and that had knocked Usagi to the ground. Tears of horrified defeat welled in the sapphire blue pools of her eyes as he held his hand out to help her up.

Kaori sneered pettily. "Well that's what you get for letting a weakling play," she sniffed disdainfully. "I mean, there's nothing to her! Look at her! She's rail thin! Get the girl a sandwich or something," Kaori roared, _definitely_ loud enough so that Usagi heard it.

His blood began to boil with fury as he wrapped his arm around Usagi, who trembled with devastation in his arms. He gritted his teeth and wondered if anyone would stop him from throttling her. Usagi, whose shoulders were slumped with defeat, visibly swallowed back her tears. "Maybe I should sit the rest of this one out," she murmured apologetically.

He was infuriated as he peered down at his broken-hearted wife who was, once again, drowning in her sorrow. He opened his mouth to say something, to help her get through this but snapped it shut as he realized he was at a loss for words. He didn't know what to do about this. _Would it be better if she stopped playing?_

He was carefully considering what to say to her when Haruka placed a firm hand on his arm.

He glanced over at the Senshi, whose gaze was burning just as hotly as his, but there was wisdom glinting from her eyes that made him frown. "You know, Usagi, you could sit this one out, it might be easier," he inhaled sharply at her words, and Usagi's face fell with understanding disappointment. "But we'll probably win if you and Mamoru work together," she said, her eyes piercing into him.

His eyes widened with the epiphany. _Damn_ , Haruka was right. _So what if Usagi wasn't athletically inclined?_ She'd been the moon Senshi in his world. She was a powerful warrior; defender of justice and love, and every time they'd worked together, they'd defeated whatever monster had crossed their path.

He nodded curtly at Haruka, who grinned and stepped back into place. He gently squeezed Usagi's side. "Usako," he whispered, and she glanced up at him curiously. Her lips pressed into a firm, miserable line, and her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don't want you to stop playing," he said with conviction. She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted her. "You can do this. Listen, Kaori is purposefully spiking the ball on your right because you keep missing it there. Just concentrate on your right, Usa, and I'll catch everything else," he said firmly.

She shook her head in frustration, "Mamo-chan, I can't do it. She's right. I'm too weak to get it over the net," she exclaimed miserably.

He leant down, his lips nearly pressed to her ear. "Usako, you're the strongest woman that I know. You can do this, and if you _can't,_ I'll be here to help you," he said, and his voice broke slightly with emotion because this was about so much more than a volleyball game.

A moment passed, as Usagi considered his words, and she blinked back her tears. Her eyes filled with awe, wonder and appreciation. Then they hardened into a look of determination that filled him with pride.

"Oh my God, are we playing, or _what_?" Kaori snarled, and his gaze fell onto the blonde. The menacing glare on his face effectively silenced her.

Usagi squeezed his hand and moved out of his arms. "Yeah, let's play," she snapped, giving him a resolute nod.

The other team served, and the game began anew. It wasn't easy at first, and she still stumbled, her footing unsteady, but she never gave up. He made sure to support her as much as possible from all sides and soon they hit their groove. It was quiet between all of them, the only sounds was that of exertion as they kept volleying the ball back and forth. The energy was electric, the tension palpable as the others stepped back and let Usagi take the lead. It was as if they could sense how important this was for both of them.

Kaori was merciless, as was the rest of her team that could sense the challenge sizzling around them. Usagi started figuring out her flow, and she was able to set the ball up perfectly for him so that he could spike it to the other team. They'd gained traction and caught up with them, promptly evening out their scores.

It was the game point this time, and Kaori's snarling expression twisted up a somewhat pretty face into something ugly, and unattractive. "You're going to lose," she hissed through the net as they waited for Michiru to set up her serve. "I can't imagine what your husband sees in you; weak, and pathetic." He clenched his fists with fury at her venomously whispered words, and he took a step forward, intent on setting the bitch straight when Usagi spoke.

"You'll see how weak I am when you're staring up at me from your back after I spike this ball into your face," she said with conviction, her spine stiffened and her legs locked with determination. It was a tall order, but he _was_ going to make it happen.

Michiru served the ball, and he could feel the air shifting around them. It was one of those moments that the anticipation and energy crackled so plainly, that you could just _feel_ the oncoming victory. He saw his opportunity when the ball soared towards him, perfectly volleyed for him to set it up for Usagi. His heart raced furiously, the blood pounding in his ears as he expertly hit the ball towards her.

"Usako, go now!" he shouted, his tone firm and demanding.

Usagi nodded, leaned down and then leapt into the air. He'd seen that look on her face several times during their battles together. With every last ounce of strength she possessed, she hit the ball, her wrist smashing into the white synthetic leather so fiercely that it twisted, turned and whistled as it sliced through the air and deftly smashed into Kaori's face, sending her sprawling onto her back.

Their team cheered, all of them whooping and shouting with excitement, but his eyes were only on Usagi. She whirled towards him, her gaze filled with wonder. With an excited cry of elation, she flew into his arms, and he laughed as he hoisted her small form against him. She hopped up, and his hands grasped the back of her thighs as they wrapped around his waist, her arms curling around his neck.

She peered down at him, her face flushed with excitement her eyes filled with adrenaline and joy. "Mamo-chan! I did it!" she exclaimed, the emotion interlaced so painfully in her words that his throat constricted tightly.

"Yes, Usako," he whispered hoarsely. "I knew you could."

She blinked, her breathing hitched in her throat as the adrenaline melted away and her eyes filled with a different kind of need that perfectly mirrored his own.

"Hey, lovebirds," Haruka teased. Usagi blinked, promptly broke eye contact with him, and turned her head towards the blonde. The intensity of the moment dissipated, and she blushed prettily, as he released her and her body tantalizingly slid down the length of him before her feet hit the sand. She went to pull away, but he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back to his side.

Haruka chuckled. "There's a lobster shack just down the beach. It's cute, and the food is good. Do you want to join us for dinner?" she asked, her tone bright and inviting.

Usagi peered up at him questioningly, and he shrugged. "It's up to you, Usa," he said tenderly, and she graced him with a dazzling smile.

She turned back to Haruka with a vigorous nod. "Yes," she exclaimed. "I would like that very much," she said eagerly.

Haruka laughed and gestured them forward, "Alright then, let's go!" she stated, and he smiled down at his little Usako, interlacing his fingers in hers as they followed. They were so lost in each other, that they didn't even glance back at Kaori who was moaning miserably, clutching her face, sprawled on her back behind them.

oOo

He'd never been to a lobster shack before, and it was precisely that. An open-faced wooden hut that opened up onto a makeshift wooden dais. It was brightly coloured, exotic designs painstakingly painted on every wooden plank. It was surrounded by palm trees that had emerged from the sand, curling haphazardly around the structure, fairy lights strung across them.

The low base of foreign music thrummed through the atmosphere, mingling with the low murmur of conversation from the other patrons and the sizzling sound of something roasting on a wooden stove.

As a doctor, he would have been inclined to move onto more sanitary options. But as Usagi's husband, he was delighted to see the way her face lit up with excitement over the prospect of eating there with her new friends and, unbeknownst to her, loyal Senshi.

Haruka pulled Michiru towards the server behind the counter, who, with a heavily accented voice and a brilliant smile, gladly took their order.

He did have to admit that the food looked delicious, and when they settled onto yellowed, wooden benches, around a round wooden table, he was delighted when Usagi instantly dug into her food. Moaning with pleasure, eyes closed as she savoured her first bite. He silently decided not to eat a single morsel so that he could give her his meal as well.

Haruka also regarded Usagi with an amused grin, "I told you, kitten. Doesn't look like much, but it's the very best lobster in Jamaica," she stated with conviction, then shared a soft, intimate smile with Michiru.

Usagi nodded, murmuring her ascent around a mouthful of food. He chuckled, and she swallowed, smiling guiltily with a blush spreading prettily on her cheeks.

"I didn't realize how hungry I was!" she exclaimed. "It feels like I haven't eaten in ages!" she said with a giggle. He knew that it was a joke, that she was saying it lightly, but it was so close to the truth that his expression involuntarily sobered.

She'd noticed, and her smile faded as she averted her gaze, her eyes pointedly focused on her plate. She looked forlorn and small again, so as casually as he could manage, he scooted closer to her, and wrapped an arm around her waist, turning his gaze back onto the couple that watched them with curious expressions on their faces.

He changed the subject quickly, and the conversation turned to lighter topics. The tension slowly melted away, especially as they replayed Usagi's winning moment during the volleyball game. She visibly perked up, her eyes bright, face flushed with pride, as she listened to Haruka's detailed account of Kaori being crushed, quite comically, under the weight of the ball.

The sun began to dip below the horizon, a canvas of brightly coloured oranges and reds becoming a breathtaking backdrop to the perfect scenery. The lights flickered on, the music turned up louder, as the crowd thickened around them.

Michiru's eyes were just as bright as Usa's as she scanned their surroundings, her hand firmly intertwined with Haruka's on the table. "It's so beautiful here, I almost don't want to go home," Michiru sighed softly, but then peered up at Haruka, whose eyes were filled with tenderness. "I miss Hotaru, though," she said gently.

He frowned at the mention of the Senshi of Saturn, and Michiru turned smiling eyes onto Usagi. "Hotaru is our daughter. She just turned one three weeks ago. Would you like to see a picture?" Michiru asked eagerly, as she sat up slightly, and pulled a cell phone from her pocket.

His heart began to race as Usagi stiffened beside him. He frowned as he studied her face, and though she'd tensed, there was a genuine smile on her lips. "Of course," she whispered lightly, though he couldn't help but notice that it was forced. He did not know if Usagi had interacted with any children after what had happened to her, and he clenched his jaw tightly, preparing himself for anything.

Michiru swiped through several photos on her phone and stopped on one. It lit up brightly in the darkness, and it was a picture of a cherub-cheeked, smiling, black-haired girl sitting in Haruka's lap. Usagi took the phone, smiling, though he noted that it did not quite reach her eyes.

She lifted her eyes to Michiru's expectant gaze. "She's beautiful, Michiru," Usagi murmured softly, her voice sincere but tinged with sadness. His fingers clenched into fists beneath the table and his breathing quickened as his throat constricted painfully. She should never have had to bear this pain on her own. He, _or the Mamoru of this world_ , should have been there to help her.

He should have known that it was coming. This was a fucking nightmare, after all, and every single thing in this damn place had clearly been crafted to lull Usagi into a sense of complacency just so that it would hurt that much more when they tortured her. Still, he could not stop the unintentionally painful words that spilled from Michiru's lips.

Michiru leaned forward, her expression gentle, "Do you have children? You have that new, happy mom, vibe about you, Usagi," she said innocently. He knew that she'd meant it as a compliment. The sweet, tender-hearted Michiru of this world would never have intentionally hurt Usagi. It didn't matter though, and the look of devastation that fell with anguished intensity onto her face ripped at his heart.

Her eyes widened, full saucers of pain and _terror,_ as she opened her mouth to respond, but not a sound came out.

It was like time was moving in slow motion, and damn, she was going to fall apart right here at the table. It was apparent that she was at a loss for words. She was so used to facing this by herself. He couldn't let her do this alone anymore, but he didn't know what the _right_ thing to say was. It was at that moment that the text messages Minako had printed for him flashed through his head, and one in particular burned into the forefront of his mind.

" _He won't even let me talk about her. If I do, he snaps at me like I'm some kind of crazed psychopath. He wants me to pretend like she never existed. I can't be like him and drown myself in work. Why do I have to forget about her? Doesn't he know that I want to talk about her? I still feel like a mom, Minako. Except I don't have a baby anymore."_

Usagi had always dealt with her grief differently than he had. She was such a bright, beautifully compassionate soul. It only made sense that she would want to remember the beautiful baby that she'd held, but had never truly met. That she would want to speak about the unconditional love that she'd felt for her daughter, and the unbearable pain she'd experienced with her devastating loss. She _needed_ that, and he hadn't fucking allowed it.

He knew that this life wasn't real. That this was a nightmare. But damn, _it fucking hurt._ And his eyes welled with tears that he quickly blinked back. It was time that he did the right thing by the beautifully broken, and haunted woman that was his _wife._

What felt like hours, had only been mere seconds since Michiru's question, and he cleared his throat and forced a smile on his face. "We had a daughter, as well," he said gently. Usagi audibly gasped beside him, and Michiru's face fell in remorse as she noted the _tense_ that he'd used. "She was beautiful, small, and perfect," he whispered, then turned his gaze to Usagi who was staring at him in complete and utter shock. "Just like her mother," he said it with conviction and sincerity. Usagi trembled, and he reached over and took her hand in his.

She didn't pull away from him, _which he took as a good sign_ , and he turned back to Michiru and Haruka who were both staring at them with varying expressions of heartfelt sympathy. "That's probably why you get that vibe from her, Michiru. Usako is still a new mom. Our daughter just isn't with us anymore," his voice shook slightly with the intensity of the emotion coursing through him and threading thickly through the air between them.

Michiru's delicate hand covered her mouth, and she shook her head with contrition. "Oh, Mamoru, Usagi," she murmured. "I'm _so_ sorry," she whispered brokenly.

He opened his mouth to respond, to tell her that it wasn't her fault, but Usagi spoke first. "I'm not," she whispered hoarsely. "Sorry that she was born, that is," she said, and he carefully studied her expression. The tears that had glistened in her eyes moments before were rolling down her cheeks now, but there was a watery smile gracing her lips. "She _was_ perfect. We had a hard time deciding on a name, but Mamo-chan-" she took a deep cleansing breath, and he gave her an encouraging smile. She squeezed his hand tightly. "Mamo-chan said during our first ultrasound that he was hoping that she would be like a little version of me. It was a bit of a joke, but we called her Chibi-Usa, and the name just stuck," she said softly, her tone quiet and gentle. He shuddered at her words, blinking, bleary-eyed. _Oh God… Chibi-Usa._ It was the first time he connected the pink-haired girl that was his _actual_ daughter, with the one that they'd lost here, and it was like he'd been punched in the stomach.

Michiru and Haruka remained silent as Usagi continued to speak. Their eyes were filled with a gentle understanding, and a sweet tenderness that he would never have been able to manage under the circumstances. He felt like _he_ was drowning in despair, suddenly. And he inwardly cursed. What the hell was wrong with him?

The conversation had progressed onto a different topic, and he hadn't even noticed. It was only when Usagi pressed herself against his side on the bench, a slight arm curling around his waist that he glanced down at her.

She peered up at him, and there was a raw vulnerability in her gaze that he hadn't seen before, laced gently with a look of relief and understanding. She smiled tenderly, and he exhaled deeply, the bright blues of her eyes successfully grounding him.

She turned back towards the couple with a genuinely bright smile, "This has been lovely, and I am so glad to have met you, but I think it's time that we head back now," she said softly, and he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. _Something was different._ "We do have a long flight tomorrow," she said apologetically while she released him and stood.

Michiru and Haruka stood as well, their hands clasped, looks of genuine disappointment on their faces. "It was so wonderful to meet you, Usagi. It was truly a delight," Michiru said warmly, as she pulled Usagi into her arms for a quick embrace. "You have my number now, darling. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to call," she whispered, placed a soft kiss on Usagi's cheek and stepped back into Haruka's embrace. "It was so wonderful to meet you as well, Mamoru. I do hope that we meet again," Michiru murmured, her eyes soft as she peered down at him.

"Take care, Kitten," Haruka quipped, then turned to him with a sardonic smirk on her lips. "You take care of her now, Chiba," she said, and all he could do was nod mutely. The words were there, but they tangled up on his tongue, and he couldn't manage to say a single thing. What the _fuck_ was wrong with him? Why was he suddenly overwhelmed?

The couple offered them one last wave, swivelled around without looking back, and disappeared into the darkness along the beach. He was still staring after their retreating figures when he felt Usagi's lips brush against his temple and her hand firmly grasp his.

He turned towards her, and there was a dazzling smile on her lips. "Mamo-chan, it's okay," she whispered and tenderly swept a tuft of hair off of his forehead. "Let's go home now," she said. He knew that she meant the villa, but the word 'home' snapped him out of his anguished daze, and he promptly swung his legs over the bench and stood beside her.

She peered up at him from beneath long, silky lashes that fanned the tops of reddened cheeks as she blinked. She was flushed, elated and, _damn,_ she was beautiful. Without thinking he lifted his hand to cup her cheek, her skin so soft against his palm. He inhaled sharply, a heat curling with anticipation around him as she pressed her cheek longingly into his hand.

His heart began to race as she lifted a delicate hand to cover his, her eyelids fluttering shut as she turned her face so that her lips brushed tantalizingly on the inside of his palm.

He swallowed as a different kind of need pooled in the pit of his stomach. "Usako," he murmured, and the inflection held a question that she answered with a smile, as she clasped his hand and tugged him onto the beach.

It was dark, but the beach was lit up by the luminescent glow of the moon and the twinkling stars above them. They didn't speak as they walked, both lost in different thoughts that burned along the same lines. He took a moment to study her profile in the moonlight. Her golden hair glowed almost silver, enshrouded by an aura much brighter than the sad, broken girl she'd been when they'd first arrived here. There was a confidence in her gait that had been absent mere hours ago, and a soft look etched into the contours of her face and every lovely curve of her body.

When they made it back to the villa, the structure was bathed in complete darkness as they hadn't thought to turn on any of the exterior lights before leaving. It didn't matter though, and Usagi tugged him up the cobblestone pathway that led to the French patio doors that opened up to their bedroom. Her hand curled around the handle, and she pushed them open. A rush of cold air-conditioned air washed over them, cooling their heated skin as they both stepped into the house.

Usagi moved into the bedroom, and he quietly shut the door behind them. The sound of the waves crashing furiously against the shore was muted and muffled now. The silence was deafening as she whirled around to face him.

He leaned back against the door, trying to control the fast, heavy beat of his heart by slowing down his breathing. He wasn't sure what was going to happen now, but he knew that whatever happened had to be on _her_ terms. He waited and silently watched her standing in the middle of the room. An array of facial expressions swept over the delicate features of her face before she visibly took a deep breath and looked up at him.

His body was burning with a heat that made his mouth go dry, and it took every ounce of willpower that he possessed not to close the gap between them and crush the soft curves of her body against the hardened contours of his.

His eyes met her heated gaze, and he swallowed around the dry lump that was lodged in his throat. "Usako," he said, his voice ragged and pleading.

She tentatively took a step towards him, her eyes burning with a searing hunger that mirrored his own before she stopped. She hesitated for only a moment before propelling herself onto the tips of her toes, curling her arms around his neck, and crushing her lips onto his. There was desperation in her kiss that scorched his skin, filled him with a heat that coiled into his muscles, hardened his body and he lost himself in a fevered fog of lust that he'd managed to keep at bay thus far.

With a guttural groan of need, he deepened their kiss, nipped at her lower lip and coaxed them open with his tongue. She whimpered into his mouth as his hands tantalizingly swept down the length of her body, warmly grazing her ribs, before settling onto her hips.

Her lips moved against his, their tongues tangled with a frenzied fervour that was tinged with a desperation and a depth of emotion that overwhelmed him. She tightened her arms around him, her fingers lacing into the hair at the nape of his neck before she pulled away, breathlessly breaking their kiss.

She didn't say a word as she stared into his eyes, their laboured breathing weaving together between them. He wondered for a moment if he'd crossed a line, if maybe she was going to ask him to stop, before she leaned over and tantalizingly kissed his jaw. Her movements were controlled and enticingly slow as she nipped and trailed tender kisses along his jawline, seductively arching her body into his as she ran her tongue over the shell of his ear.

He groaned, desire coiling in the pit of his stomach and vibrating over his skin as his need to _have_ her intensified and grew with every nip and kiss she placed on his burning skin. "Mamo-chan," her voice was raspy, and velvety smooth as she whispered it into his ear.

It sent him over the edge, and he growled as he pressed his palms into the back of her thighs, and in one swift movement, hoisted her up. She barely had time to wrap her legs around his waist as he turned her body and pressed her into the glass panes of the French doors. She gasped as his lips met hers again, as he kept one hand on her thigh, as the other one deftly crept beneath the bottom seam of her shirt. His fingers splayed over her tight abdomen before sweeping up and cupping her breast. She moaned as he expertly pulled back the malleable fabric of her white bikini top, and it sprang free, fitting perfectly into the palm of his hand. She whimpered into his mouth as he kneaded, then nimbly rolled a pert nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He pushed her body more tightly against him, sweeping his other hand beneath her shirt, giving her second breast equal attention.

She ripped her mouth away from his, lost in her own wanton haze of need and threw her head back where it hit the glass pane. The moon was directly behind them, the light enshrouded and bathed her in a soft glow that was fitting. Though she might not remember it in this world, she was his moon Goddess, and he lowered his head to her neck and kissed down its slender curve, the movements worshipping her accordingly.

The sounds of desire spilling from her lips were driving him over the edge. Her body arched desperately into his, her knees pressing into his hips as she ground against him. "Please, Mamo-chan," she moaned, her tone hoarse and pleading.

He ceased his gentle ministrations on her chest, swiftly grasped her shuddering body in his arms, and carried her to the bed. He was gentle as he reverently laid her down on the richly embroidered blankets. He hesitated as he regarded her splayed beneath him, his blonde-haired warrior princess, fiercely strong as she peered up at him from beneath hooded, seductively warm eyes.

He shook with his need to have her, to be inside of her, but this wouldn't work unless it was on her terms. He needed to hear her declaration of love so that he could get them the _fuck_ out of here, and he didn't want to risk another setback if somehow she regretted this in the morning. He had to be sure.

He leaned over her on the bed, his hands pressing into the mattress on either side of her head, "Usako," he whispered, and his voice shook as he spoke. "Do you want this? Is this okay?" he choked, not entirely sure what he would do if she said no at this point.

Her eyes widened at his question, then filled with a blazing heat of tenderness as her fingers curled into the front of his shirt and she forcibly pulled him down on top of her. "Mamo-chan, I want this," she responded heatedly, and that was all he needed to hear.

He crushed his lips onto hers with feverish intensity as his knee pressed in between her legs, gently parting them. Their movements quickened as he grasped the bottom seam of her shirt, and she leaned forward as he tugged it over her head. He was certain that he heard a tearing sound as he ripped the bikini top off of her body. She gasped as he lowered his head, pulled a perfect pebble into his mouth, expertly nipping and swirling his tongue around it.

She moaned and mewled as her fingers laced into his hair, and his hands slid tantalizingly over her abdomen to the clasp of her jean shorts. It only took a moment to unbutton and unzip them, and she wiggled her hips, helping him as he shimmied both her shorts and the bathing suit bottoms down her legs before discarding them onto the floor.

He pulled away from her to bask in the beauty of her exposed, naked body for a moment, and his gaze swept over every beautiful curve with awe and adoration. "Usako," he choked, "You're so beautiful," he whispered, and she smiled alluringly as she sat up and tugged at his shirt.

He understood, and seconds later he'd discarded his clothing along with hers before covering her body with his again. He pressed his lips onto the crook of her neck, nipping at her collarbone as his hands swept over the contours of her body down to her thighs. His hand slid up between them, and she quivered as he pressed two fingers into the hot, wet folds between her legs.

He caught her cry of pleasure with his lips as he expertly moved and curled them upwards inside of her, sweeping the pad of his thumb over the sensitive nub of flesh, kneading and simultaneously stimulating her senses.

Her legs quivered, and her fingernails pressed moon crescent shapes into his shoulder blades as she cried out with pleasure into his mouth. "Please, Mamo-chan," she pleaded desperately.

She moaned mournfully as he pulled away for a moment, his eyes fixed tenderly onto her face as he lifted her hips, aligning his body with hers. He leaned down, pressed his cheek against hers, nibbling on her earlobe as he reached down between them, parted her slick folds and in one desperate movement plunged into her, burying himself in her hot, wet, warmth.

Their synchronized moans of pleasure echoed around them as he stopped, and allowed her a moment to adjust to him. He felt her tightening and pulsing around his hardened length as her hips began to move, creating unbearably delicious friction as she ground herself against his body from beneath him.

He hesitated one last time, trembling with the willpower it took to maintain control, as he pressed his forehead onto to hers, his eyes clenched shut and his breathing ragged. "Usako," he whispered, the question etched painfully into his tone.

She sighed softly, wrapped her legs around his hips and arched her back, effectively burying him to the hilt inside her, silently urging him to continue. He lost whatever control he'd maintained up until that point, and with a guttural groan, pulled out before slamming back into her.

He was trapped in a haze of pleasure as his pace quickened, his movements became more frenzied as he continuously thrust in and out of her. The sound of her mewls and moans fueled him to move faster, press deeper until he could tell by the tone of her cries that she was close, and _damn_ , so was he.

He could feel the sweet pull of release building inside of him, but he couldn't let go. Not until she did too. He reached in between them, pressing his thumb onto the sensitive nub of her core, kneading in tandem with each thrust.

Her legs quivered and pulsed around him, and he crushed his lips onto hers just as she cried out with the sweet release of orgasm. With one final thrust and a feral groan, he followed suit before collapsing on top of her.

He pressed a tender kiss onto her lips as he shifted onto his back, pulling out of her so that she wouldn't have to bear the brunt of his weight. He pulled her back into his arms, and she lay her head on his shoulder, her fingers splayed out on the hard expanse of his chest along with the golden locks of her hair.

He didn't say anything as their breathing gradually slowed, and he lifted a hand, tentative and unsure now, and stroked her hair. His eyes fixed onto the ceiling, and he swallowed nervously. Surely, after everything, she would say it now. She would admit what he already knew was true, her memories would be restored and they would be pulled out of this heart-wrenching world of sorrow, and back to the real world where things made sense, and she wasn't broken and drowning in despair.

He trailed his hand down the length of her spine and peered down at her. "Usako?" he whispered questioningly, but she didn't respond.

He gently pulled her hair off of her face, his fingers grazing her cheek and sighed softly with the realization that she was fast asleep. It had, admittedly, been an emotional day, so he merely pulled her close, and tucked her tightly to his side.

He closed his eyes, a determined resolve coiling around him. His hold tightened around her, she moaned softly in her sleep, and he vowed that no matter what happened, he would get them out of this mess. No matter how many nightmares they had to wade through, or how many times he needed to remind her who she was. He planned to fight tooth and nail the moment they were freed from this. But tonight, he just wanted to hold her.

oOo

He woke slowly, disoriented and bleary-eyed. The sounds of the waves crashing onto the beach were not muffled anymore. He propped himself onto his elbows, turned his head, and blinked into the sunlight pouring in, along with the sounds of the ocean, through the open french doors.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sunlight before his mind cleared from the foggy haze of sleep and he realized, with a start, that Usagi was absent from the bed. He frowned, his eyes scanning the room in confusion. Usagi was not an early riser. If she was up before him, then it was because she couldn't sleep.

He exhaled nervously, stretching the kinks out of his neck as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The sheets tangled up on his waist and he raked a hand through his hair. If Usagi couldn't sleep, it was because something was bothering her. He hoped to God it wasn't the decision to be with him last night. He'd made sure, _absolutely sure,_ that it was what she'd wanted, too. So he hoped that her reason for being awake so early was because she'd finally realized that she was in love with him again. He just needed to hear the words. She must feel it now, after everything, _right_?

Still, he could feel the painful uncertainty unfurling in his chest as he stood, pulled on a pair of shorts and his red Keio University t-shirt. The pain that had been implanted into Usagi in this nightmare, although completely contrived, had been wheedled so profoundly that the grief was etched into every layer of what made up Usagi. He'd seen it, in her eyes, in her movements, and in the way she did _everything_ in this world. He knew that he'd managed to untangle a lot of the sorrow-filled webs that had been weaved inside of her, but he still wasn't sure yet.

Unfortunately, all of the pain she felt was because of him in this world. Had what he'd done been enough for her to love him again, or at least admit it out loud?

He stepped out of the bedroom, his bare feet burning slightly on the hot sand as he scanned the horizon. She was there, just off in the distance, staring wistfully out into the waves. She was a beautiful, almost ethereal, vision against a breathtaking backdrop; the sun slowly rising, a pink and red tinge casting the darkness aside, as morning rose over the endless expanse of the beach. She was wearing a thin sweater, her arms wrapped around herself as the wind whipped and pulled blond strands of hair from the hastily crafted braid.

He took a deep, cleansing breath and made his way to her. The sound of the waves and the wind, masked any noise he might have made with his approach, so she jumped as his hands lightly grasped her arms from behind.

She peered over her shoulder, blinking up into his face, and his heart sank at the look etched onto its contours. It was not the bright, beautiful expression that _his_ Usagi would have given him after a night together.

A soft smile curled onto her lips, but there was still a deep-seated sorrow layered in the pools of her eyes. "Mamo-chan," she murmured, twisting her body around so that she was facing him. His hands automatically trailed down the length of her arms and settled onto her hips. "Good morning," she whispered, and her words were tentative and unsure.

He frowned, swallowing around the panic tightening his throat. _No._ She loved him. Dammit, she _had_ too. "Usako," he said, and he was pleased to note that there wasn't _a hint_ of the terror-filled anxiety that was bubbling up inside of him present in his voice. "Is everything alright?" he asked softly because he didn't know what else to say.

She tilted her head to the side, and he held his breath, his heart pounding as she averted her gaze and bit her lower lip nervously. _No._ "Mamo-chan, the past couple of days have been amazing," she whispered raggedly, and his hands tightened on her waist. She looked up again, and her eyes were wide, full, and filled with sadness. "It's everything I wished for, this version of you. It's who I fell in love with, and if you had done this, even six months ago, I think it would be different -" he could feel it coming, the fucking words that he didn't want to hear. These emotions going through her weren't real, dammit. This _wasn't_ their life.

He pulled her into his arms, crushed her body to his chest, and his hands trembled as he wrapped his arms around her. "Usako," he said hoarsely, dropping his head and pressing his lips onto her shoulder. "Please, don't finish that sentence," he pleaded desperately.

She _didn't_ finish her sentence, and her arms tentatively curled around his waist. He took a deep breath, lifted his head and peered down into her upturned face. "I love you. More than anything," he said forcefully.

Her eyes widened, and she was silent for a moment as her sad sapphire gaze, met the intensely desperate cobalt blue of his. "But, Mamo-chan. Will you love me like this when we're home again? Or is this just going to be another thing I'm going to have to survive?" she whispered brokenly.

 _Screw this nightmare._ He was done with this. He couldn't stand seeing the pain and uncertainty tearing her up anymore. With an anguished groan, he cradled her face in his hands. "I'm not going to change, Usako," he breathed, his face inches from hers. "Do you love me, Usagi?" he demanded, and he knew, _he should have known,_ that it didn't work like that. He couldn't force the words from her lips.

She considered his question for what seemed like an eternity, before responding. "I don't know, Mamo-chan. I'm confused," she murmured, and his heart sank into the pit of his stomach. The look of utter despondency must have been written onto his face, because she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned up and pressed a tender kiss onto his lips, before pulling away again. "I want to _try,_ though. I want to work on this, I just need more time," she pleaded, before resting her head onto his chest, tucked comfortably beneath his chin. "Will you give me more time, Mamo-chan? To let go of all the … pain?" she whispered, her tone imploring and tinged with hesitancy.

He wanted to scream with frustration. She loved him, but the pained memories of this world wouldn't allow her to completely forgive him enough to admit it out loud. He clenched his eyes shut, took a deep breath and forcibly exhaled the defeat and disappointment. This nightmare was _not_ going to win. He would get them out of here, no matter how _fucking_ long it took.

He tightened his arms around her and pressed a gentle kiss onto her forehead. "Yes, Usako. I'll prove to you that I want this," he murmured, and she sighed and melted into his embrace. "You can take all of the time you need. In the meantime, I can love you enough for the both of us," he said softly.

This was not the ending he'd anticipated for this trip to Jamaica. He'd hoped that it would end with her heartfelt declaration, and then him standing beside his Senshi clad warrior princess as they promptly destroyed the monsters that were torturing them here. He sighed softly, forcibly let go of his expectations and the disappointment. He would ride this out with her to the very end. He would not lose. Not to this nightmare, and not to the false grief that went with it. _No matter how long it took._

oOo

Though it hadn't entirely turned out as he'd anticipated, he did have to admit, the 16-hour flight back to Tokyo was considerably more enjoyable than the trip there. Usagi, while still apprehensive about her feelings towards him, was markedly brighter, warmer, and definitely _not_ opposed to his touch anymore.

He was definitely _not_ opposed to the amount of time that she opted to spend in his arms either, and when she wasn't curled up in his embrace, it was because she was eating. He was secretly relieved when she didn't turn down any of her in-flight meals this time, and though her appetite was still not up to par with his insatiable Usako, it was still a good indication that he truly was on the right track. It strengthened his resolve, and the last of his disappointment melted away with his newfound determination. He was _so close._

He could already see the sorrow melting away. He only needed a couple more days to prove to her that he was just as devoted to her in what she believed was their day-to-day life as he was in Jamaica, and she would admit the love he _knew_ she already felt. He would have _preferred_ to have escaped this nightmare altogether, but if he was going to be here, he definitely preferred _this_ version of his Usako, as opposed to the one that had hated him.

She'd fallen asleep, her head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her waist, at about the 11th-hour mark of their trip. He fixed his gaze out of the oval-shaped plane window into the darkness of the sky whirring by, his index finger absentmindedly tracing circles on Usagi's arm, as he lost himself deep in thought. He was carefully crafting a detailed plan to coax a confession from the blonde curled up beside him when his eyes, of their own accord, closed and he fell into a restless sleep.

He wasn't sure how long he'd drifted in and out of consciousness when he was awakened by a smiling, redheaded stewardess. "I'm very sorry to wake you, sir. We're preparing to land, so I am going to have to ask you to buckle your seatbelt," she whispered cordially, glancing back at Usagi who was also still fast asleep. Her head was practically in his lap now, as she slumped over in an awkward position.

He nodded, and, still smiling, the Stewardess continued down the aisles, conveying the same message to the other passengers.

He winced as he stretched the kinks out of his neck, leant over his sleeping wife, and tenderly swept a wispy curl off of her face before gently shaking her awake. "Usako, it's time to wake up. We're landing," he murmured softly, and she moaned, stirring beside him as her eyes fluttered open. "We're almost home," he said, his smile doting as he watched her sit up, yawn loudly, and stretch slender arms above her head.

"Mm, home?" she sighed questioningly, still dazed, before the clouded look in her eyes cleared. He watched with puzzled amusement, as a red tinge crept, quite adorably, across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, "Oh…" she murmured, nibbled her lower lip anxiously, a look of dismay washing over delicate facial features. "I wanted to ask you something… before… before we got here," she stammered with embarrassment, wringing her hands nervously.

He frowned, confused, and, quite honestly, terrified by what she was going to say. At this point, he'd learned that he should always expect another obstacle; that whoever was orchestrating this nightmare had purposefully inserted heart-wrenching twists and turns into _everything_. So he mentally prepared himself for the worst as he took her hands into his, effectively stilling the nervous habit, before peering down into her eyes. "Usako, what is it?" he asked softly, his brow furrowed with curiosity.

Her face reddened even more, and his breath hitched at the alluring sight. "I was hoping, that when we got home," she choked on her words, exhaling a frustrated breath, as she fixed her eyes onto their intertwined hands. "I don't even know why this is so difficult for me. So I'm just going to say it," she said, her words spilling out of her mouth in quick, Minako-like fashion. _Damn_ , he was _really_ nervous now. "When we get home, I want to move my things back into your - er- _our_ bedroom," she said it all in one breath, her eyes burning with the fear of _rejection_ , as she stared up at him.

It took a moment for her request to register, and his shoulders relaxed instantly, relief washing through his tensed muscles, as he inwardly sighed. _What was he going to have to do to dispel all of her insecurities?_ It was apparent to him now that the reason she _wouldn't_ say that she loved him out loud - _because she clearly loved him -_ was because she didn't trust him not to break her heart again.

She was watching him, unnecessarily nervous about his response. He smiled widely, shook his head in exasperation, then swept down and passionately claimed her lips with his own. She melted against him just as the plane landed, with jarring impact, onto the tarmac at the international airport in Tokyo.

He hadn't needed to answer. It was evident in the way her lips moved beneath his that the kiss was a sufficient enough response.

oOo

Usagi was practically dead on her feet when they finally walked through the doorway into the genkan. It was still relatively early in the afternoon, but the flight and the emotional toll of the past couple of days were admittedly wearing down on his blue-eyed blonde who yawned loudly as she stumbled ahead of him into the darkened interior of the hall.

He smiled softly as he steadied her. The Usako of this world was a relatively graceful version of the one he knew and loved, so it was nice to see a bit of her clumsiness seep through. With one hand still resting on her waist, he leaned over and flicked on one of the many light switches lining the wall. He'd managed to choose the correct one, and it effectively lit up the whole house.

Usagi yawned again, before swivelling around to face him. She slowly lifted delicately slender arms above her head, stretching out tense muscles with an enticing moan, before curling them around his neck. His breath hitched in his throat as he lovingly peered down into her smiling face, and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. Just because she looked so damn adorable, and because they'd settled into something sweet and tenderly comfortable, he leaned down and placed a playful kiss on the tip of her nose.

Her eyes lit up, and she giggled drowsily before dropping her head onto his shoulder. "It feels nice to be home, Mamo-chan," she murmured sleepily. He rested his chin on the top of her head. Her silky hair tickling his jaw as he smiled sadly. This wasn't home for him. It wasn't for her either, and he was eager to get them back to where they belonged.

With a tender kiss and a gentle squeeze, he released her and stepped back. "Why don't you go upstairs, take a nap, and I'll fix us some dinner?" he said gently, as he studied her beautifully flushed face. He was confident that she'd admit her love for him by the end of the day, then this would be over.

Her smile widened, and she nodded gratefully. "Do you want me to bring our stuff upstairs?" she questioned, though her tone of voice indicated that she didn't really _want_ too.

He shook his head, "No. Go, Usako. We can take care of it later," he said warmly, and her smile brightened.

She took a step towards him, propelled herself onto the tips of her toes, playfully kissed his lips before swivelling around, and bounding up the steps. He chuckled, his eyes lingering appreciatively on the curves of her figure as she disappeared before he turned towards the white countered kitchen that actually seemed a little cozier today.

He pulled open the fridge doors. It was strange to still see it fully stocked with ingredients. Although, he supposed it wouldn't all go bad in three days. It just felt like they'd been gone for so much longer. He frowned, thoroughly confused by the complexities of this world. _How was any of this even possible?_

He internally contemplated all of the intricate details that had been carefully crafted into these nightmares as he pulled out randomly chosen ingredients to whip something up for them.

He allowed his mind to race through all of the potential possibilities for the new enemy that they were now facing as he absentmindedly chopped, diced, and cooked their dinner. He was so deeply entrenched into his internal musings that he didn't notice Usagi standing in the threshold of the kitchen.

"Get out."

The sound of her voice was ragged, broken and filled with a burning intensity that was even more heart wrenching than when he'd first spoken to her the morning after waking up in this place. It startled him, and his gaze snapped to hers in narrowed confusion.

Her posture was stiff, unyielding, her skin a pale alabaster colour devoid of her usual blush. What really ripped at his heart, and caused his breath to quicken in terror, though, was the _look_ in her eyes.

Tears were rolling unchecked down her cheeks, leaving tear-stained trails of pain, and her eyes were filled with a devastation that was _worse_ than anything he'd ever seen. It was more than just the devastation, though. There was a broken-hearted and disappointed contempt threaded there, too.

He dropped the knife he'd been using. It clattered noisily onto the cutting board, and the sound echoed loudly around them. He twisted around and reached out for her, but she pulled away, hissing brokenly through her teeth. His heart skipped a painful beat in the cavity of his chest. _What the hell had happened?_

With narrowed eyes of confusion, his hands still frozen in midair, he took another tentative step towards her. "Usako, what's wrong?" he questioned, and the panic rising with startling terror in his throat was seeping into his tone.

She stepped back in tandem with his step forward, her body trembling with rage. "What's wrong?" she spat hoarsely, her tone laced with disbelief. "You want to know what's _wrong?"_ she was choking on her words, and he felt like he was choking too. What had happened in the twenty minutes since she'd gone upstairs?

He reached for her again, because he didn't know what else to do, the confusion so clearly etched on his face as his mind raced with everything that might have happened. Was this another fucking twist? He'd done everything _right_!

"Usako-" he began with desperation, but she furiously interrupted him.

"Don't call me that, Mamoru," she hissed. "You cold-hearted son of a bitch. I believed you… I believed that you …" she couldn't finish her sentence as a broken-hearted sob of agony tore from her lips.

He didn't give a damn that she'd demanded her space. He closed the gap between them and clasped her arms in a firm grip, fully intending on pulling her into his arms. She let out a cry of fury as she forcibly pushed him away.

He stumbled back, bracing his hands on the counter behind him. He was internally screaming in frustration. This nightmare _fucking sucked_ , and he was done with it. He was tired of watching her break over and over again. What the fuck had _happened?_ He'd been so _damn_ close!

He wanted to scream at the _injustice_ of whatever secondary twist had been wrought into this hellhole. Instead, he took a deep breath and calmly faced down his crushed, agonized, _reason for breathing._ "Usako, what did I do?" he whispered, and his tone was deathly quiet, though very audible, even over the sound of her ragged breathing,

She laughed then, and it was a hysterical sound he'd never heard before. "I went upstairs, to sleep, in _our bedroom_ ," she sneered derisively, the words dripping with disdain from her lips. It was a tone he never wanted to hear from her again. "And it was there. Just sitting on the side table, charging and _untouched,_ " the anguish was replacing the derision now, and she clenched her eyes closed, drowning in pain.

He didn't know what she meant, and his heart began to hammer inside of his chest. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, and this time his words were harsh, too.

The red-rimmed, sapphire-blue of her eyes burned hotly as she slowly lifted her hand, waving a sleek faced, black cell phone at him. He'd never seen it before, but he knew that it must have been his. His breath hitched painfully in his throat. He didn't know what the hell she'd seen on 'his' cell phone, but, based on his knowledge of the Mamoru of this world, he could only _imagine_ what horrors were saved on there. The thought caused his throat to constrict with terror.

When he didn't say anything, at a loss for words, the unfettered fury in her eyes melted away into a look of anguished defeat that ripped at his heart. "Can you imagine how I felt?" she whispered with slumped shoulders, her fingers clenched around the phone so tightly her knuckles were turning white. "You said you needed a break from technology, so I wasn't surprised to see all the notifications flashing on your screen," her tear-filled eyes met his gaze. "I should have left it, but you're so different now, and I was _curious._ " He could only watch, his face whitening, a painful dread unfurling in his chest. "It's like you don't even care, you haven't even bothered to change your fucking password."

He needed to say something. This wasn't real… whatever she'd found on that phone was not really _him._ It was a trick, a twisted sick joke. "Please, Usagi," he pleaded. "I'm not sure what you think you've found-" he began, but she coldly interjected.

Her eyes hardened icily as she glared at him. "What I _think I've found?"_ she snapped furiously, "Do you mean the hundreds of text messages from my _best friend_ carefully sending you every single message I've ever sent to her _about you_? Was that how you knew _exactly_ what to say to me, Mamoru?" She demanded, and he inwardly cursed Minako. "Or do you mean _this,"_ she snapped, furiously, swiping across the screen and prodding it angrily.

The sound of Ami's voice, in the form of a voicemail echoing from 'his' phone, caused his heart to skip a beat in frozen horror.

" _Hey… I just spoke with Kunzite, and he told me that you've gone off to Jamaica with Usagi. I have to admit, I was a little confused at first and really hurt, too, Mamo-chan. I mean, how can you say you love me, and that you're going to leave her one second, and then take off to Jamaica with her the next? I thought about it… and I know you're worried about setting off her drinking problem again. So…. whenever you're ready, I'll be here, Mamo-chan."_

The horrifying recording ended with a deafening click. His breathing quickened, and the bile rose in his throat at the despair curling around him. Her eyes, angry, broken, _devastated_ , were glaring at him expectantly. She was waiting for him to say something, to deny it even. But how could he, when she'd seen the undeniable proof that was curled like a venomous snake in her hand?

There had to be a way to salvage this. To fix what the bodiless monsters had _done_ to them. It wasn't going to end like this. He wouldn't allow them to stay trapped in this nightmare for a second longer.

He took a step towards her. How could he make her understand? By the hardened look in her eyes and the unyielding demeanour with which she faced him, he knew that the devotion and endless patience he _would_ have used to coax a confession from her was _no longer an option._

His heart was aching with the dread and the pain of what he needed to do now. "I'm sorry, Usako," he whispered remorsefully. Her eyes widened in horror, and she gasped, a look of pure agony contorting her delicate facial features. With a quick swipe of her hand, she violently smashed the phone onto the marbled counter. It shattered, splintered pieces of glass, steel and plastic skidding in all directions.

He knew that she'd been expecting a denial, _any kind of denial,_ and it was shredding him into pieces to see her like this. "Get out," she cried brokenly, crossing her arms and clutching her biceps so tightly he was sure she was leaving crescent-shaped marks on the soft surface of her skin.

He wanted to scream, to hyperventilate, to shake the memories back into her. Instead, he ignored the unbearably pressing urge and closed the gap between them, again, clasping her shoulders and pulled her towards him. This time he did not step back when she tried to push him away.

"No, I'm not going anywhere," he said firmly, the tone of his voice deathly calm, which in no way reflected the terror churning around inside of him. There was a chance, _a huge one_ , that this wouldn't work.

Her head snapped up, her eyes seething as she pushed him again. He was expecting it when she lifted her hand in the air, and with all the strength she could muster, slapped him. He gritted his teeth as the stinging sensation from the forceful impact resonated painfully across his face. It must have felt cathartic, because she lifted her hand to strike him again, but this time he clasped her wrist to stop her.

She struggled against him, but he would not, _could not,_ let her go. He would _never_ let her go. "Why are you angry, Usako?" he demanded, and he hated himself for asking it, for pushing her further than he had any right too.

She gasped furiously, her face red with rage, her eyes filling with disbelief at the audacity of his question. "Are you _fucking_ kidding me? Why am I _angry?"_ she practically screeched, the sound pierced his ears and his heart. "Because you're a heartless _monster_ , Mamoru," she seethed.

He shook his head, tightened his hand around her wrist and wrapped his other hand around her waist. "No, that's not it, Usako," he whispered, his voice breaking with strained emotion. "Those are words of hatred. What I did wouldn't hurt so much if you hated me. Why are you angry, Usako?" This had to _work._ He just needed to hear the words.

She froze, the blood draining from her face as she glared up at him, a fresh onslaught of tears welling in her eyes. "Why are you doing this to me?" she choked the words out, her body trembling with sorrow. His vision swam with tears of his own, and he almost stopped. But he knew that it would be worse for her if he didn't press her harder.

He steeled his resolve, and tightened his arm around her more firmly. "Why would this make you angry, Usako? Why do you care?" he demanded, and _fuck_ , it was heartless. It was cruel. But he _had_ to do it.

She stopped struggling, and her body slumped against him as she whimpered on her despair. "How can you even ask me that?" she sobbed, and he had to hold her up to keep from falling now.

The tears he hadn't meant to shed were rolling hotly down his face now, too, but he blinked them back, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. "Do you even care, Usako?" She did. _Of course she fucking did._ And he hated himself even more for even asking this of her, but he had too. He _had_ to get them out of here.

She stiffened in his arms again, inhaling sharply at the cruel words he'd dared to ask her, as her intensely burning gaze met his. "Fuck you, Mamoru. You know why it hurts me," she whispered angrily.

He lowered his face so that it was only inches from hers. Her chest was heaving with emotion; her ragged breath warmly fanning across his face. "Why?" he demanded, and it was all he could manage. He couldn't do this anymore if she didn't cave. He was done after this. He would languish here, search for another way, no matter how long it took, but he couldn't bear to purposefully hurt her anymore.

Luckily, he was not faced with that horrible possibility. With all of the seething anger, sorrow, and the burning intensity of her _love_ for him, the flashing sapphire hues of her eyes firmly met his gaze. "Because I love you! I love you, you stupid…" she trailed off, inhaling sharply, an array of emotion flashing across her face.

He nearly wept, crumpled to the ground in blissful relief as he watched her eyes narrow in confusion before they widened with _recognition._ It was _over_. She _remembered_.

She gasped, and her hands shook as she tenderly cradled his face. He exhaled deeply, all of the tension coiled into his muscles seeping away as his trembling hands covered hers.

She shook her head with frustrated confusion. "Mamo-chan," she choked. "Oh my God. This isn't real," she whispered, still bewildered, and trying to decipher the difference between her real memories, and the false ones that had been expertly weaved into her mind. "Mamo-chan, how long do we have?" She whispered hoarsely, a terrified urgency laced into her tone as she pulled her hands out from beneath his and curled her arms around his neck.

He buried his face into the golden locks of her hair, breathing in the lavender and vanilla scent, as he wrapped his arms around her. "I don't know. It seems to get a little longer each time it happens," he whispered, as he lifted his head and stared into her eyes, and they were _her eyes_ this time.

He felt defeated, utterly exhausted from the emotionally draining experience of this nightmare. But Usagi's eyes hardened with determined resolve. His Senshi warrior princess was back and ready to fight. "Mamo-chan, it's alright," she whispered _tenderly,_ and the loving tone in her voice nearly broke him. "It's going to be okay. If we just get the others then…"

The familiar buzzing sound was deafening as it echoed around them and he clutched at her desperately because he knew what that meant. This nightmare was over, and _they_ were going to rip them apart again. He couldn't do it. He couldn't face another world like this.

She pressed her lips to his ear, her fingers lacing into the ebony locks of hair at the back of his head. "Mamo-chan, whatever happens, don't give up. I love you," she whispered desperately, but also with a firm conviction that filled him with strength and a renewed determination.

He was going to tell her that he loved her too, and he would _never_ give up, but it was too late. She was forcibly ripped from his arms once again, and everything went black.


	6. Chapter 4: Dark Side of the Moon

**Dark Side of the Moon**

 **By Revy679**

 **This is my first contribution to this fun little world.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

 **Thank you to my betas NinjetteTwitch and Beej88.**

 **Seriously check out their pages! :-)**

 **I own nothing, I just love these characters!**

* * *

The edges of awareness slipped into his consciousness. Immediately noticing the pain in his neck and arms, both stiff and somewhat sore, he quickly discovered why. He was hunched over a black lacquer desk.

He slowly raised his head, hissing in pain as his neck silently protested to the movement. His blurry vision started to clear and what his eyes beheld did little to comfort his rising discomfort.

He wasn't sure what was more distressing; the awkward way he awoke, or the fact that this was clearly another dream…no, THIS was a hell-scape. Judging by his surroundings…it clearly looked like at least one version of hell.

The room he currently found himself occupying was unique to say the least; cast in darkness, as if a deep purple and black had been mixed together to create a color that did not exist in his world. The walls were covered in what appeared to resemble stalagmites…or diamonds…no, it was…crystals!

His eyes could not refrain from gawking at the unique, if not hideous, décor of the room. The crystals appeared to have lights running throughout. Suddenly feeling as if he were inside a cave, he noticed the light drumming through the crystals was…dark. _How could light be dark?_ In-fact, the entire room, even though lit, cast an almost murky haze.

As he stared at the anomaly, his hand automatically came up to his neck in hopes of easing the tension. Straightening his considerable form, his eyes widened in shock at his attire. He was wearing what King Endymion wore…but _not exactly_. He leapt to his feet, as if moving quick enough might allow him to escape the garish getup, the so-called room and perhaps even this nightmare.

Noticing a mirror, he hastily moved toward it in hopes that his eyes had maybe deceived him. To his dismay, the mirror showed him what he had hoped it wouldn't. He stood in full King Endymion garb, only this version was such a deep purple it might as well have been black. His mask was also black, almost shining, as if it were made of metal. There was no deviation from this purple/black color…he was shrouded in it, as if he were attending a funeral or just in perpetual mourning. Just wearing the gaudy garb caused him to feel sick. Or maybe it was the room, or the dream. He felt his breath quicken and he knew he was possibly on the verge of a panic attack.

Hopelessness encroached upon the edges of his mind, as a knock was heard on the thick wooden door of the horrid room, saving him from falling helplessly into the abyss.

As if the gods were testing his ability to stay sane, Mina...no, Venus…at least he thought it was Venus…stepped into the room. She was wearing her Senshi fuku…only it was an extraordinarily dark burnt orange with black accents. The orange she sported was nothing like the bright cheery orange of their world. This was almost grotesque, like burned flesh that was one step away from charcoal. She had a great deal of makeup on as well, like a goth version of herself. Normally he didn't notice such details, but he felt certain that a blind man could see these blatant differences.

It was as if this world was trying to make him scream out the discrepancies of this realm, with the sole purpose of making him appear crazy by merely calling out the fraud. He knew these sadistic worlds were meant to trick him into being locked away within the nightmare for all eternity; but he would be damned if he complied. He had always been a competitive person, and he hadn't lost yet. He wouldn't let this, or any world, beat him. He would not stop until he had conquered every last nightmare they could throw at him. He had clawed his way out of the bowels of hell to get back to his love in the past, and this would be no different. He would not stop until they were all free from this purgatory.

Lost to his inner dialog, he remembered Venus' presence. She appeared to have a blank stare on her face, very unlike the bubbly Mina/Venus of _his_ world. It was almost as if she were in a trance.

"Your Majesty, the Queen has requested your presence in the throne room."

She spoke in a lifeless and dull voice that provided no comfort. The Venus of this world made him wish for the bright, vivacious Mina that he often times clashed with in their world. In-fact, in this moment, he would have loved to hear her confuse a classic quote or talk to the point of giving him a headache. The thought surprised him, as he never thought he would actually desire such a thing. But in this frigid environment…it would have been an immense comfort.

His brain comprehended her words, but he was mostly focused and surprised at the knowledge that he would soon be seeing his Queen. Relief initially washed over him. Then he recalled the last time they were married in a dream, and that all-too-familiar twinge of unease spread through him. Shaking his head, he couldn't afford to dwell on that now. He had to stay positive. At least he didn't have to search for her. They lived in the same place, and that could only make his current goal easier to accomplish...he hoped.

Coming out of his trance, he straightened his impressive frame while donning his best royal expression, one of acceptance and dismissal to acknowledge the Senshi before him. She did not leave the room, only standing in the doorway, clearly waiting for him to follow.

He was grateful for the guide to navigate the labyrinth that was the castle as he walked behind the Senshi of Love, or whatever she might be known as here. He couldn't help but notice how once again the darkly lit castle held the same aura as the room he had just exited. The ceilings were impossibly high and crystals covered every square inch, including the floors…something he had not previously noticed. The entirety of their surroundings appeared to throb with a dark light, as if it were a living being with it's very own heartbeat. The emanating energy seemed to jab at his heart with every pulse.

As they arrived in the throne room, the expanse of the castle could truly be viewed as the room opened up into a massive formal area, seemingly as opulent as it was vulgar. The same dark color scheme bathed this room as well, as if it were fog covering every exterior as well as every occupant. The throne chairs along the back wall, upon the platform, were dead center in the room and pitch black. They looked like something a dragon master would deem as appropriate furnishings.

At that moment the rest of the Senshi arrived in the room and to his utter shock, he instantly noticing that they were kneeling in supplication to him. His lips wanted to scream, yet his mind took over the task... _Why the hell are they kneeling to me?!_

He noticed once again the dark theme reigned supreme. Kneeling next to Venus was Mars in her black and red fuku. The red was so dark it resembled dried blood. On his other side, closest to him, Jupiter kneeled in her black and murky green fuku…it was quite honestly unsettling…like a green at the bottom of a swamp mixed with tar. Next to her kneeled Mercury, her once beautiful sapphire fuku turned into a nearly black and cloudy blue that resembled the color of bruises.

All of the Senshi wore far too much makeup and none of it was flattering in the slightest. It was as if he were looking in a funhouse mirror that held no fun. Like a truly bad costume party that held no mirth. That's it. That's how he would view this trip to the dark side of the moon…it's just a horrible costume party…from hell…or more accurately… _in_ hell. But even as shocking as the Senshi's appearances…nothing could have prepared him for what he saw next.

A deep male voice cut through his thoughts, slicing through the silence in the room.

"Her Majesty, the Queen of the Moon and Earth, Neo Queen Serenity."

His heart stopped at the vision before him. It was all so difficult to process. First, Nephrite was the one to have announced her entrance. He was standing on the raised platform to the side of the thrones. Zoisite and Jedite were standing at the bottom of the platform on either side of the thrones as Kunzite guided the Queen by hand to her throne.

He didn't know what to focus on first…the fact that his generals were acting as her guards while the Senshi were acting as his guards. The fact that the general's dark attire was even more unsettling than when they were working for Queen Beryl. Or the visage of his Queen…no, this was not HIS Queen. His brain couldn't believe the sight his eyes were relaying. She…she was so completely different.

Her hair, while styled with the classic odangos, had an extra loop of hair below her trademark accent, and that loop of hair seemed to stay up as if there was a wire running through it to keep it in place. Her same lengthy tails flanked the length of her slender body as they always had, but her dress…dear Kami! He was horrified and aroused all at the same time. Her dress was a deep purple that hugged her curves and seemed to shimmer with every pulse of the lights in the room. Her breasts seemed to barely be contained by the flimsy looking construction that made up the top part of her ensemble. The dress skirt flowed all around her, and her dress was slit all the way up to her waist showing off her long shapely legs as well as the straps of a black thong. She had tiny black wings as well, but even with all of this visual stimuli…her eyes were what shocked him most. They were no longer the shining blue he had fallen in love with time and time again. They were a deep dark blue like a churning sea at midnight. They were not the wide beautiful blue orbs that captured his heart throughout their lifetimes. No…these were cold and calculating. He honestly didn't know how the hell he was still standing. As she settled herself, she look at him expectantly...almost as if she was bored.

He quickly realized he was still standing by the Senshi who remained kneeling before him. His feet propelled him forward as his mind attempted to process the events of the past few minutes.

No matter the world, he was always instinctively drawn to her…so his body just moved towards her. He knew HIS Queen was still in there somewhere and he was determined to find her.

As he found his way to his hideous throne chair and took his seat, he noticed the smirks of the generals. They all seemed to have a cocky air about them that burrowed its way deep into his soul, leaving a spectacularly unsettling feeling in its wake. Particularly, the look Kunzite aimed at him might as well as have shot him directly in the heart. He didn't like the subtext of that look, especially with the way Kunzite was now eyeing the Queen. He didn't want to see it, didn't want to believe it, but it was the unmistakable look of a…lover. He shook himself out of the thought. Even if that were true…he couldn't deal with it right now. He had too many other problems vying for his attention at the moment.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the Senshi rise as a figure walked into the throne room. He was stunned to see Helios. In that instance, he noticed a look of recognition flash in Helios' eyes, but he couldn't be certain. The momentary flicker seemed to send a jolt of hope through him. He wasn't sure, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Helios might be the one that was awake in this hellscape.

"Your Majesties, Helios, the High Priest of Elysion," Venus announced as lifelessly as she had spoken earlier.

"What news from Elysion do you bring your Queen today, Helios?"

Serenity's voice was sinfully seductive, washing over him like soiled silk. It was very unlike the voice he was used to hearing from her in their world. It felt…wrong, yet there was a part of him that couldn't help the flicker of attraction that seemed to spring to life and well up from deep within himself. He honestly didn't know what to make of the sensation. It frightened him as much as it intrigued him.

Kneeling before them, Helios wore a dark grey, nearly silver suit that could have been made out of brushed metal. It was a harsh contrast to his stark white hair. His eyes were alive, burning with the ancient knowledge that only one who had spanned many lifetimes could possess.

"Your Majesty, I came to report that the previous uprisings have been extinguished at your behest. Of course, none of this would have been possible without your…exemplary guard at the helm."

Endymion noticed the hesitation in Helios' reference to her 'exemplary guard'. He equally noticed a barely perceptible hint of disgust in his tone. Finally, he realized that Helios did not address both of them…only her.

The Generals appeared to be looking rather smug, clearly very pleased with themselves at the words of praise Helios bestowed upon them. Clearly so caught up in their self-congratulation, they did not detect the begrudging tone beneath his words.

Endymion was as confused as he was fascinated by the exchange. There were so many things he didn't understand, so many answers to questions he had not yet voiced...they crowded his mind like a traffic jam. However, in this moment, he knew he had to speak with Helios…alone.

"Very good, Helios. I am satisfied with your report. Furthermore, I am glad you choose to report in person this time. It is important that you are taking my orders more seriously. You have pleased your Queen, Helios. You are dismissed." She spoke in an almost haughty, yet firm and dismissive tone, ultimately letting everyone know she was the complete authority here.

The entire exchange was baffling to say the least…it was yet another moment where she was completely opposite. It shook him to his core, yet deep down equally piqued his interest.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear the ridiculous thought. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew he didn't like it. Why was he feeling as if he were being affected, as if he himself were changing in this dream? He didn't want to think that a dream could honestly change who he was…it was simply too terrifying. Regardless, he undoubtedly knew he felt something blossoming within him…something dark.

Throughout the entire interaction with Helios, he noticed the Senshi not moving, not speaking, not even showing signs of human tendencies. It was as if they were soulless zombies; another thought that he had to shake away and put it on the backburner for another time. There was too much to absorb and it was overwhelming to say the least.

As he watched Helios walking out, he found himself moving without his conscious consent. But before he could make much headway, he was stopped with a large hand squeezing his shoulder almost painfully.

"Where the hell are you going...your Majesty?" It did not escape his attention that the last word was said with pure malice.

"Your Queen has not dismissed you."

Endymion straightened his back, grabbing the hand that rested threateningly on his shoulder and exerted his own strength, squeezing it a bit too hard and shoving it back towards its owner.

"Last time I checked, a King does not need to be dismissed… _guard_ ," Endymion infused just as much malice in the last word as Kunzite had aimed at him.

He swore Kunzite was holding back from hitting him in the face. He quickly realized that Kunzite clearly took his orders from The Queen. The white haired general, his best friend in another life, might have wanted to pulverize him, but he would never do anything without _her_ consent.

"Enough!"

The Queen had spoken and the guards all gazed at her as if she were their reason for being. He supposed, in this world, that was true.

"Endymion…since when do you rush out when holding court? So, unlike you… _husband_." She said the word with a hint of humor, as if their being married was some kind of joke. The looks of mocking on the guard's faces did not go unnoticed by him either. Now, this was just one more question he needed answered. Normally he would stay here and play the game, but he had more pressing matters to attend to and he knew that he must speak with Helios. Without another word he turned and all but ran out of the throne room.

He was making his way down the hall, but everything looked the same. For all he knew, he could be making a complete circle back to the throne room.

"Your Majesty…" came a whisper so low he thought he might be hearing things. He spied no owner to the voice, yet just then Helios appeared out of thin air. In all his years of knowing Helios, he would never get used to that ability.

He didn't ask; didn't dance around the subject. He just embraced Helios as if he were a lifeline…and in many ways, in this moment, he was. If nothing else, he was certainly a lifeline to his sanity.

Helios stiffened as soon as his King had hugged him. "Your Majesty, we need to move back to your office… _now_." The urgency in Helios' voice left no room for argument.

Helios led the way and Endymion was grateful for the guidance. The castle was a maze and it really wasn't a maze he cared to learn. His only objective...to get Serenity and get the hell out of this crystal encased house of horrors.

They made it to his office, the place where this nightmare started, and Helios quickly turned to him with a grave look. It made him uncomfortable and he knew that whatever was going on in this dream, was possibly worse than he imagined. The growing feeling of unease was twisting around his heart.

"Your Majesty…" Helios began and he took a breath, obviously bracing himself for whatever terrible thing he had to say. "I realize you have questions and I intend to answer them, but you must first be made aware of one thing."

Endymion wasn't sure, but he almost thought the temperature dropped in the room…or maybe that was just his heart constricting with the tension brought on by whatever horrible news Helios was about to unleash.

"Your Majesty, as you are obviously aware, I am awake, but there is a very specific reason I am the one awake in this dreamscape. The stakes…the repercussions…the consequences of this particular dream are quite dire…"

"What do you mean, Helios? Aren't the repercussions of the dream world in general dire? If I don't get us out, we are at risk of being trapped forever…"

Your Majesty…" Helios eyes seemed to grow as large as saucers as he seemed to have difficulty actually saying the words so readily poised on his lips. "This time…it's very different…you see, this time, if you don't get out…you will not only be trapped, but this…THIS…" he gestured to their surroundings, "will become…the future…in the real world."

Endymion felt as if the floor had moved out from under him, yet somehow he was still upright.

"Helios…that can't be true! That has to be a mistake…how can you be certain?!"

"Your Highness, I realize this is regrettable news at best, but I assure you that it is most certainly true. This development is why I am the one who is awake for this dream. The stakes are far too high and I...being the keeper of dreams, and this being a dream world…obviously I was chosen to aid you in escaping this nightmare. I am aware of all this because unlike the previous dream, this one won't just trap you within a dream. It will have real world consequences and…" he paused again as if the next part was too painful to voice, "it will also…shatter the dream world in its entirety." The last part had him looking as if he had just taken a punch, his head hanging low in despair.

It was times like these that Endymion was grateful for his calm and quick thinking mind. He was shocked at the news, but once again his competitive and fighting spirit did not cower. Instead he felt a surge of determination course through his body. Walking up to Helios, he grasped him by the shoulders.

"Look at me, Helios. We will not lose…I am going to save us all, as well as our futures. I will be damned if I live in this hell for the rest of my days. Now, tell me everything."

Helios seemed to look slightly less defeated as he exhaled a steadying breath.

"First off, I am sure you noticed that your guards are switched?"

"Yes, how could I not notice? What the hell is that about?"

Helios seemed to fidget at the forthcoming answer. "Your Majesty, this is an uncomfortable part to explain…to you."

Endymion dropped his head into his hands, pinching his nose in a futile effort to relieve the building headache. He had his suspicions, but the way Helios was acting, he knew he was correct. He didn't like it. In-fact, it made his blood boil, yet somehow he managed to control it. Of course, the fact that it's all a dream did help, but the fact that this could all become reality…that could easily make his control slip. He couldn't do that, though. He wouldn't do that. This was no longer a game. He would not lose. As Helios stated…too much was at stake.

So, he stuffed down the distracting thoughts and waited for Helios to find the words to confirm his fears.

"Your Majesty, The Queen decided to switch the guards…because you see, your marriage is…one of convenience." He said the words quickly as if he were ripping off a band-aid. The look of surprise on Endymion's face was not lost on Helios. The suspicions Endymion had, were now painfully real. He clenched his fists to keep from breaking something.

"Please…continue, Helios."

It was clear by the look of fear and dread in Helios' eyes that elaborating was the last thing he wanted to do. But he also would not deny a direct order from his Sovereign.

"Your Majesty, I really think you will need a drink for this…the Serenity of this world is unlike any ever witnessed." As he spoke he quickly moved to the bar and filled a rocks glass with as much bourbon as it would hold and handed it to his King.

Endymion grabbed the drink and knocked back half of it, both for his nerves and to appease Helios.

"As I am sure you have noticed, there is dark energy flowing throughout this castle…that energy came from somewhere." Helios seemed to aim a very pointed look at him, as if he were willing him to guess the answer. Endymion's mind played through possible scenarios, but still found himself at a loss.

"I suppose it makes sense that you wouldn't realize…" Helios said in an almost sad voice. "There are truly a high number of unusual events that have taken place in this world."

Endymion was starting to get frustrated with all the cryptic speak. He finished off the rest of his drink, slamming it down onto the desktop.

"Helios, please…I need to know everything. I know you don't want to be the bearer of bad news, but unfortunately, it appears as if bad news is the only news. So please…tell me."

Endymion's words once again seemed to provide Helios with a renewed sense of purpose and confidence. Of course, his King was absolutely correct. Time was of the essence.

"Your Majesty, the power came from…Diamond."

Endymion kept his expression neutral and his audible responses internal. Even in his astonishment, he could feel that there was more; this tidbit wasn't the worst of the news to come out of this little chat. He could feel Helios building to the main event.

"The Queen took advantage of his affection for her and…married him…"

"She married Diamond?!" Endymion couldn't help himself at that point. To think she married that piece of shit!

 _It's not real, it's not real, IT'S NOT REAL!_ He was screaming the words in his mind, willing himself to calm down.

"Sire, she did not consummate the marriage…he died on the wedding night. No one knows this outside of myself, but she…she…killed him and took his power. The only way she could receive his power was to be married to him." He spoke in low tones as if the walls had ears.

Endymion sat there with his mouth agape, trying to process this new information. Serenity KILLING someone…this truly did not compute. How was that possible even in a dream world? Once again, he started his chant to calm himself. He rose from the desk, walking to the bar and pouring another full glass. As he sat down, his words failed him, so he motioned with his hand for Helios to continue.

"She married you for your power as well. Your Kingdom…and…your guard."

This was the part Endymion was dreading. He took another long swig of his drink as his heart tried not to drown.

"Did she attempt to kill me as well?" He mumbled under his breath. Helios still caught the question and was about to address it... "Continue." Endymion said in a weary tone.

Helios appeared visibly shaken with the next part of the story he had yet to tell. But he found his resolve and continued.

"Sire, she had no desire for you as a true husband. She only wanted your power and your kingdom. You are the King of Earth and your loyal subjects would only follow her with you by her side. She found amusement with...your guard." Endymion noticed Helios go paler than usual as Endymion clenched his jaw. Endymion attempted to calm himself and it must have worked because Helios continued.

"She was happy to play this sham of a marriage out for the people. She is nothing if not a good actress and she thrives on attention. She loves her subjects, but only because they love her first. Honestly, in this world, you were no more interested in her than she was in you. You both wanted the power each of your Kingdoms provided."

"Yes, but what about our guards being switched?"

Helios visibly swallowed. He clearly didn't want to voice this part.

"Your Majesty, the Queen became…infatuated with your guards. She realized that her Senshi had also become equally smitten with your guards. Well, the Queen does not like competition, so she used the power of the dark crystal to put them under a spell. They are only capable of doing their Senshi duties…but only to you...and they have lost all memory outside of their duty. I am sure you have noticed they lack...personality?"

Endymion nodded, too bewildered to speak.

"She also used the power of the dark crystal to brainwash your generals to be loyal only to her…in all aspects." Clearly Helios did not want to elaborate on that point and quite frankly…Endymion didn't want him to either.

"Okay, so what was all that in the throne room? You only addressing her and not both of us?"

"Ah yes, well she sees you as merely a figurehead. She really doesn't allow you to do much. That was the deal she brokered with you before the two of you married. You see Sire, the Endymion of this world is not like you. As different as Serenity is, you are equally different as well. You only care about your freedom to do what….and…. _who_ you please." Helios said the last part in pure trepidation.

Endymion was having a hard time wrapping his brain around that one. Helios was basically telling him that he was a… _a_ _man whore!_ He just sat there trying to fathom a version of himself that would be that way. At the clearing of Helios' throat he knew that this tale was not over just yet.

"Sire, I am afraid that you should be aware of a couple more items. The 'you' of this world has partaken in all of the Senshi in more than just a professional capacity."

If Endymion had been taking a drink in that moment he would have given Helios a bourbon shower. _Sleeping with the Senshi?!_ He was ready to punch a hole through the wall…that pulsating, dark, _weird-ass_ wall.

"Your Majesty, the other piece of information is that the Queen not only does not see you as King material, but she does not see you as husband material…at least…" He cleared his throat nervously, as if he were pleading with Endymion to understand so he wouldn't have to actually say the words. Endymion was so lost in the next upcoming awful piece of news, he couldn't grasp what Helios wanted him to latch onto. A weary sigh escaped Helios' lips.

"Sire, she does not see you as…manly enough to…give her what she needs…sexually. And if you and the Queen never consummate…" he visibly cringed, "Small Lady...will never be born," he said this in pure anguish.

Endymion threw his glass into the wall as it shattered behind Helios and he winced at seeing his King in so much pain.

Endymion punched the wall, but it did not break. It didn't phase him as he kept landing hit after hit. Even as the bones in his hand protested in pain and he was sure that his hand would break before the wall did, his anger overtook. All he saw was red, and without warning, the wall cracked at the point of impact. As the blood seeped from his now mangled hand, he smiled as he gazed at the now cracked crystal wall. In the short time that he had been in this hellacious world, it had already hurt him to his core. Now, seeing that he had hurt something in this world, it was a small victory, but nonetheless a victory. He would take pleasure in even something as small as the cracked wall.

As Endymion went to address Helios, he noticed that he was no longer sitting in the chair he had been occupying. In-fact the Priest of Elysion was nowhere in the room. Just then a knock was heard at his door. Endymion immediately realized that Helios must have sensed the person coming to his door and disappeared. It probably was frowned upon to meet with Helios in secret.

He summoned his powers to heal his bloody hand as he walked to the door.

"Yes?"

"Your Majesty, dinner is served."

A woman he had never seen before, but he was sure that he was expected to know, bustled her way into his office and placed a dinner tray onto his desk.

"Am I not eating with the Queen?" He blurted out without thinking.

The woman looked at him in confusion. "No, Sire. You always take your meals in your office." He hoped that she would just think he was joking. He wasn't sure if he was seen as funny in this world, but honestly he didn't care at this point. He was grateful when she swiftly made her way out of his office. As soon as she shut the door, Helios appeared once more.

The reappearance had somewhat startled him. He truly would never get used to it.

"Are you alright, your Majesty?"

"Alright? Am I alright? Let's see, you have told me that my wife is screwing my guards and I am screwing her Senshi and anyone else I fancy too, apparently. My wife only wants my power and has no desire to have sex with me. Oh, and let's not forget that if I don't save us all from this nightmare, it will become our permanent future in the real world! Never mind the fact that if things stay this way, our daughter will never be born! Oh yeah, Helios, I'm just _fucking peachy_!" He ranted as he poured himself another drink and downed the full glass as if it were a shot.

Helios was not accustomed to seeing his King so unhinged, but he certainly could not blame him. This was a lot to take in whilst holding onto one's sanity.

"Sire…" Helios began tentatively…"there is one more thing...I feel you should know…"

Endymion was tempted to tell him to just stop, that he couldn't possibly take anymore bad news. But hell, he had come this far…why not hear all of horrendous details. He ungraciously plopped down into his chair and wearly motioned for Helios to continue.

"Honestly, your Majesty, I am not entirely sure how to word this, but…the Queen has a penchant for…strong men…rough men…um, bad boys…I believe they are called? It's how she was able to tap into the natural killer instinct of the Generals by using the power of the dark crystal. They are ruthless and she loves it. At first she was enjoying all of the guards, but now it's only...Kunzite."

Helios could hear the glass shattering within Endymion's iron grip. He didn't even seem to notice as a piece of the glass had lodged itself into his flesh. He just sat there not even blinking. The look on Helios' face was pure fear, as if he could see the scenes playing out in his King's eyes of all the ways he wanted to eliminate the leader of the Generals.

Helios cautiously continued, "I tell you this, Sire...to allow you the opportunity to tap into your own dark side…I fear it is the only way the Serenity of this world will even give you the time of day. That will allow you the chance to get close to her and help remind her of who she really is. I know it's not ideal, but time is of the essence and with Kunzite voraciously protecting her, you will not have much of an opportunity to act."

As Helios spoke, Endymion was thoroughly surprised at how easy it seemed to tap into his own dark side. The twisted deeds wrapped around his mind so effortlessly as a plan came together so naturally, so easily…dare he say…organically.

Hearing what the Queen of this sadistic world was capable of, knowing that she didn't see him as able to satisfy her…it was all so clear what he had to do now. He had said he wouldn't give up, he had vowed he would not stop until he got her back, and in this moment…he knew he would truly do anything to accomplish that goal. He was not going to live in this fucked up future for the rest of his life and he certainly wasn't about to live without HIS Serenity…nor was he going to tolerate a world where their daughter did not exist. His course of action was undeniable.

Helios was staring at his King with recognition. Endymion could tell Helios knew he had come to a decision. Helios seemed to mirror the same unmistakable look of resolute determination. "There will be no talking you out of this, your Majesty?" Endymion shook his head no. "Truthfully, Sire I am glad to hear it and I am proud to have such a strong and resilient King. The thought of this horrid future actually taking place is a thought I just can't fathom…despite having already seen it. But never seeing Small Lady, that truly tears at my heart…it's certainly not a future my heart could withstand."

Endymion's heart went out to Helios. He knew of the special attachment he and his future daughter shared and if it were anything like him and Serenity…he understood all too well the pain it could create. The look on Helios' face told Endymion that Helios knew his purpose had been fulfilled. They looked at each other for just a moment, as they nodded at each other.

"Helios, take me to the Queen."

"I, of course, know where the Queen is..." He spoke as if he did not what to take him, but Endymion's facial expression seemed to change his mind. "Follow me, Sire."

They walked through the massive halls, weaving in and out and finally coming to a grand staircase. Helios pointed to the top and with a nod of his head, Helios disappeared. This time, Endymion was far too focused on the task at hand to lend any effort to being surprised at Helios' abilities. Climbing the large staircase, he could see at the end of a hall 3 of the 4 guards standing watch. He could guess where Kunzite was and it renewed his strength as well as his anger. He stalked towards the generals and barely heard them as they indignantly told him to halt his forward movements.

Endymion's adrenaline was pumping like a locomotive. He was moving with a speed he didn't realize he was capable of, and before he could process the action…his fist connected with a face. Now Jedite was passed out, slumped against the wall. Then he felt Nephrite punch him in the stomach, and on a normal day, a hit from Neph would have knocked him down at the very least. However, today was a new day and with his power surging through him with such intensity, he didn't even seem to feel it. He grabbed Nephrite's throat concentrating his power into his hand as he slowly choked the man until he lost consciousness.

Endymion saw red and he was a little startled by the fact that he didn't hate his current actions. In that moment, Zoisite had jumped him from behind and was attempting to strangle him. Endymion didn't even seem to be phased as he backed up and slammed Zoi into the wall. He felt Zoi's grip loosen and heard him slide down the wall. As he turned to see if he was passed out, he was surprised that Zoi was pointing his dagger at Endymion from his position on the floor. Endymion grabbed the blade and as it sunk into the palm of his hand, he then jammed his knee straight into the side of Zoi's head knocking him out cold. He loosened his grip from the knife and now concentrated his power to close his latest wound. Not bothering to wipe the blood off the knife, he kicked open the door to the Queen's room. There, in the Queen's bed, was a naked Kunzite…but the Queen was nowhere to be found.

Kunzite didn't appear particularly concerned as the King entered the bedroom. He didn't seem shocked or even alarmed at the sudden intrusion. In-fact, Kunzite looked as if he had been expecting this and waiting for it, no less. Well, it didn't matter. This was ending tonight…one way or another.

Kunzite rose from the plush comfort of the Queen's bed…not ashamed in the slightest at his bare appearance. Kunzite had spotted the bloody knife in Endymion's hand and he seemed to smirk. The Kunzite that Endymion knew would have at least been concerned about his men, who now lay unconscious in the hall.

Kunzite rushed at Endymion so quickly he had lost his grip on the knife and it clattered to the cold crystal floor. He had been caught off guard, but only for a second. There was one thing he noticed that the Kunzite of this world lacked...impulse control. He wasn't nearly as controlled or calculated as the Kunzite he knew. The fact that Kunzite was naked left him wide open and vulnerable…to say the least. Endymion would normally never take such a cheap shot, but this was not a normal situation. He slammed his knee straight into Kunzite's family jewels and watched as the naked warrior screeched in pain while cupping his crotch.

As Endymion rose from the ground he was about to tell Kunzite to get the fuck out…when he felt pain radiating throughout his body and heard Kunzite's sadistic laugh ring out. Endymion now saw that the bloody knife, that had been knocked out of his hand and fallen to the ground, was now lodged deeply within his leg. Even in this world, he felt betrayed. But mostly, he was just enraged. Combined with the adrenaline and his power coursing through his being, he felt like he was having an out of body experience as he yanked the knife from his leg and plunge it straight into Kunzite's heart. Kunzite's eyes flashed anger, shock and then nothingness all in a split second as blood poured from the wound.

Under normal circumstances he would never have done such a thing, never would have even contemplated it. But in this world, with the dark energy permeating the air as well as his soul, it was alarmingly easy. He just reminded himself that this was a dream, none of it was real…but only if he could get them all out. In this moment he felt not only victorious, but utterly primal. There was a side of himself that could fully understand how this was all so addicting and exhilarating. Like the cavemen, killing and then taking their victory fuck!

He was pondering the thought as he heard clapping.

"Bravo…husband. I didn't realize you had it in you."

He turned around and his blood turned to fire in his veins.

Serenity stood before him in a see-through negligee that left nothing to the imagination, showing off every sensual curve of her perfect body. _His_ Serenity would never be so brazen as to parade around in such a manner. _His_ Serenity also would not be calm or unaffected by the now deceased Kunzite on her bedroom floor. This Serenity, however, didn't even seem to notice. She only stared at him with an intensity that did nothing to calm his arousal.

She waltzed toward him in a manner that was probably meant to make him feel like prey, but with his instincts so dangerously heightened...he was ready to let his wife know that he was more than enough to satisfy her. The thoughts running through his head were almost as scary as they were exciting. He wanted to fuck her raw; make her scream until she lost her voice; make her pass out to the pleasure. The functioning part of his brain recognized this as an opportunity to do all the things he would never do with _his_ Serenity. This was a free pass of sorts; a chance to explore each other's dark side.

She was now standing in front of him. Her eyes seemed to pierce him. Where normally he would be troubled by the darkness within, right now he embraced it. He had tapped into his dark side and he was ready to take full advantage of it, if the need arose.

"So, are you finally here to claim me?" She smirked. Her words were a challenge and they both knew it.

"Tell me…am I your King?" His words were a challenge to her pride as a ruler. He knew he would spark a response, but he didn't expect what he got.

She slapped him, her eyes burning at his question.

"Don't get cocky, Endymion. You know the arrangement we made…this is for power. Now, if you want to show me what you can do in bed, I'll allow it. I mean after your little Neanderthal display…" she gestured to his kill, "I am willing to give you a shot. Perhaps you're not such a polite pushover after-all." She wore a wicked smirk as she leaned into him and spoke the next part in hushed but intense tones. "Besides, you just killed my fuck buddy before I could have any fun tonight." She seemed to smile and pout all at the same time as she finished her statement.

She was clearly used to getting her way. This entire damned castle and this fucked up world bowed and scraped at her feet and apparently he was lumped into the group. The mere thought pissed him off and reignited the fire that had settled to a simmer.

He grabbed her waist, forcefully pulling her into his embrace. His body immediately responded to her practically naked form pressed up against him. He was pleasantly surprised to discover her scent was still the same in this world as it was in their world…lavender and vanilla.

Being caught up in her scent made him lose his train of thought. But her grabbing his crotch was a direct link back to his goal. He saw the fire in her eyes, the want, the need and the challenge. She was still waiting for him to make a move, take the shot and prove to her that he could be her equal...at least in bed anyway.

He had never been more ready to prove something in his entire life. Their future was on the line, the entire world's future as well _and_ their daughter's life hung in the balance.

He seized her lips and he was happy to feel her responding back just as eagerly. His hands were ripping away her flimsy lingerie bereft of his normally gentle touch. She moaned in delight at his rough treatment. This is never how he would treat her in _their_ world. But in this world, it excited him. She was a bad girl who liked bad boys and rough sex…so he unleashed on her.

He threw her on the bed and she laughed. He bit one of her nipples and she gasped in pleasure. She dug her fingers into his hair as her nails brought pain to his scalp. She was clawing at his back now and pulling up his jacket. He separated from her and stood, but only long enough to remove all of the cloth that kept his skin from hers. He noticed smugly how her eyes roamed his impressive physique in hungry appreciation.

Her beautiful naked form crawled to the edge of the bed and she grabbed his manhood. When she started to stroke him, her velvet touch caused his mind to reel as he was instantly lost to the sensation. He was so certain that she would take him in her mouth. But, instead, she abruptly halted in her exquisite ministrations and laid back on the bed.

"Pleasure your Queen."

It wasn't a request. It was a demand. Just her touch had his primal side screaming at him to just slam into her and make her beg. But looking at her glistening folds was like a siren call. He was pulled in like a moth to a flame. He needed to taste her. Gripping her thighs, spreading her wide, he dived into her center like a man possessed. He alternated between licks, sucks and hums. Judging by her moans of approval, she was enjoying it. Then he had a wicked thought as he suddenly stopped his attentions to her core.

"Why did you stop?!" She managed to yell and whimper at the same time.

He smirked at her wanton state.

"Pleasure your King."

She looked at him with a mix of anger and need. "You are not my King…you are my newest fuck buddy," she smirked.

She had been so close, and for him to stop without bringing her to completion, he knew was cruel. However, her latest taunt made him realize he was having fun now.

He noticed the look of confusion and desire spark within her dark eyes...she was clearly fighting a battle within herself. One that was stuck between pride and the need of fulfillment.

He waited as she came to her decision, and watched as she again crawled to the edge of the bed. She grabbed his cock and enveloped him fully within her mouth. It took everything he had to remain standing. Her hand had been good, but her mouth was amazing. She sucked and swirled her tongue at the top, the sounds of her oral affection only adding to the hot intensity in the room. He was so _fucking_ close.

Then she stopped, rolled to the side and slid off the bed. He watched in an aroused and painful daze as she walked to the closet and came back out with a leather rope. He knew his eyes widened at the sight and she smirked at his surprise.

"Can you handle me... _fuck buddy_?" She said the last words mockingly and that had him grabbing the rope and turning her around to tie her hands.

She let out a deep and seductive laugh as he bound her hands behind her back. He had officially let go of himself and was now free falling off this cliff head first. He would go where the wind took him. There was a part of him that was shocked at his actions, but in this world, the other part of him was taking charge and he didn't hate it.

When her arms were secure, he grabbed her naked body once more as he pulled her harshly up against him. Her back was to his front and his hand snaked down to the apex of her legs. Without warning, he plunged two fingers into her slick heat and her whole body jolted as she moaned in delight. He growled in her ear, satisfied that his rough touch was pleasing her.

"Do you want your King to take you?"

She was so lost in his manipulation of her nether region that she didn't respond. So he stopped, she whimpered and chuckled.

He bit her ear as he repeated his question.

"I want you to fuck me…but you are not my King," she panted breathlessly.

He removed himself from her body and smirked at her now desperate whimper. He pushed her onto the bed as she landed on her stomach.

He once again spread her legs and started eating her out, bringing her right to the edge before stopping. Her frustrations were growing, her curses were getting louder and her body trembled with every touch. Yet, she still refused to concede.

On his third go round of this particular brand of torture, he had straightened up to stretch. She took this as her opportunity to roll over and use the momentum from swinging her legs to sit up, scoot off the bed and stand next to him.

She looked at him with a mixture of anger and desire. Then she smirked as she swiftly moved down and took him into her mouth again before he could stop her. He couldn't help but recognize just how skilled she was at this. His mind was swimming in a sea of lust and...her. Once again she stopped and he momentarily wondered if he could die from blue balls.

"Fuck me," she spoke it somewhere between a command and a plea.

That slight indication that she was about to break renewed his strength. He kissed her fiercely while his fingers found her heat and his mouth now traveled down to her neck and then to her nipples. He was overloading her senses and she seemed to be enjoying it.

"Endym…"

"Ah, ah, ah! Say it…tell your King to fuck you!" He whispered as his fingers didn't let up on their work.

She was in desperate need of more than just his fingers buried within her. He saw the way she eyed his large cock and he knew she wanted it. But first he needed to hear her say it.

"N…n…no!"

She was stubborn as hell and something about that turned him on even more.

He removed his fingers and she screamed at the lack of completion. He grabbed her, turned her around and loosened the restraints at her hands. Lifting her onto the bed he then took the rope, still on her wrists, and tied her to the bedpost. The look in her eyes showed surprise, excitement and the unmistakable sign of lust.

Now that she was bound to the bed and couldn't touch him, he set a slow torturous pace as he took the scenic route of getting to know her body. Every lick, nip and bite elicited an audible and confidence boosting reaction. He knew by the quivering of her body that he was driving her insane. Honestly, he was driving himself insane. But he had a goal and he would be damned if he didn't attain that goal.

As she trembled beneath him, he got a new idea. He didn't know if he could control himself, but there was only one way to find out. He moved down to her center, spread her wide and settled his now aching manhood just at her entrance.

The anticipation was palpable. She licked her lips and the look in her eyes was one of victory. She clearly thought she had broken him and that she had won.

He touched her with his tip and she mewled. He pushed in ever so slightly and she almost screamed. His eyes didn't leave hers and that seemed to unnerve her, but he remained steady as he pushed into her so slow he thought he would die from how fast his heart was now racing.

The look on her face was mixed with shock, desire and relief. Once he was fully sheathed within her, he did not move. She was attempting to move her body to create that much needed friction, but he didn't allow it. As he lay on top of her, fully inside her, he kept his eyes locked onto hers. Suddenly, something broke within her eyes and before he could process the change…"FUCK ME, MY KING!" She screamed in need more than actual wanting.

He didn't need time to hear it, to process it, nor did he need to be told again. He pulled all the way out and slammed back into her as both of them sighed in relief. She was so completely malleable beneath him. She felt so sinfully good around him and no matter the world, the dream or the version of her…she always felt like home.

She was mewling and crying out in euphoric tones. Her arms bound above her seemed to do nothing to deter her enjoyment. Her responses to his work fed his body's demands. But something was missing. No matter how dark this little romp was, he still wanted to feel feel all of her.

He stopped and she cried out, but he kissed her as his hands reached up to untie her. The look of shock on her face was almost comical.

"I miss your embrace." He said as he pulled away from her lips. For a brief instant confusion graced her features, but not for long as he continued to slam into her.

As they once again found their rhythm, her hands clutched at his back like a lifeline. As they neared the pinnacle, her fingernails dug into the flesh on his back and he knew his little vixen was drawing blood. The thought inflamed him further, as _his_ Serenity only left crescent shaped indentations on his back…that she would later kiss with affection.

This Serenity was out for blood and he gladly let her have it.

As they were both nearing that euphoric finish line, he was stunned to find her grabbing his neck and pulling him down for a scorching kiss. But then she used his confusion and lack of concentration to roll them over, now he had a gorgeous view of her sinfully delicious body sitting atop him.

She wasn't moving and her eyes looked as if they were attempting to read his soul. Even though her eyes were dark, he still couldn't help but fall into their depths.

"Do you want your Queen to fuck you?"

Once again her words held an edge of challenge in them. At this moment, with her impaled on him and her challenge so clearly stated, he knew he had to try.

His heart clenched. She did what she always did to him…she broke him. He dropped all pretense and he looked at her honestly and openly.

"I want…my Queen to make love to me."

The smirk that once graced her features now morphed into anger. She swiftly lifted off of him and was attempting to run into the bathroom, but he caught her wrist. She was struggling to free herself.

"Let go of me. Your Queen demands it!"

"No! Your King refuses."

"You are not my King!" She screamed as if she were trying to convince herself more than him.

"I think we already established that I am yours and you are mine."

At that statement, she looked at him incredulously, her mouth was agape and she appeared to be at a loss for words.

He took the opportunity to try another approach.

"Serenity, I love you. I have always loved you and I want our future together." His words were spoken barely above a whisper, but with no less conviction. He had managed to pull her into his arms as he gazed upon her beautiful face and watched as the emotions danced in her eyes.

"Endymion…this is not what is supposed to happen. This is not the arrangement we made. You don't love me…and I…do not love you." Her words stabbed his heart, but the look on her face showed the cracks in her armor. "Endymion, I will not allow you to control me. I am my own woman and I will not be subservient to a man!" Her words were spat in ire and it spoke more to her own fears than true conviction.

"Serenity, I have never controlled you. I've never thought, tried or would ever think to control you. We are a team and a damn good one. We have always been two parts of one soul." His words were falling out of his mouth. He couldn't help it. Being so close to her like this was too much. He needed her, and not just her body. He so desperately wanted to see that look of love and longing…the look of connection that linked their souls irrevocably.

She was staring up at him with a mixture of fear and wonderment. He could feel her attempting to break free of his hold, but he could also feel her heart wasn't in the fight. So he just held her tenderly, not even realizing that the soft warm glow of his power was bathing them in his golden light. "I wish…Serenity, I wish more than anything, that you could remember…us."

His words had slipped out before he realized it and he was about to start explaining or backtracking, but her soft gasp caught his attention. He froze as he noticed that her struggling had ceased. With renewed hope, he dared to look at her.

Her eyes were shimmering with tears, her lip trembling. She grasped his head, bringing it down to her and he was too stunned to argue. This kiss was the kiss he knew, the kiss he really craved…it was her! His heart rejoiced as tears brimmed in his eyes. He got her back. He had beat this house of horrors and brought his Queen back to him. He had saved all of their futures as well as those of the real world. He had his love back and his heart felt as if it would burst.

"Endy," she choked through her tears, "…is it is really you?" She touched his face as if she were afraid he would disappear.

"Yes, my love it is me, and you are you."

"I love you, Endym…"

Her words were cut off as the dream world distorted. He tried to hold onto her, but it was futile. They were ripped apart and pulled back into the nothingness.

What insane dream world will they get pulled into next?

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed!**

 **My personal ff is Revy679.**

 **Thank you to my betas NinjetteTwitch and Beej88.**

 **Seriously check out their pages! :-)**

 **Whew! That was fun huh?**

 **Thank you for R &R&F&F!**


	7. Chapter 5: Ruthless in Heels Pt1

**A/N:** Beej88 here, and GUESS WHAT? We are back with a brand new chapter for you! This next one is written by me, though, truthfully, this is a joint effort with the lovely Ninjette Twitch that hammered out the outline with me and has been there throughout every step of this writing process! SO. This is from both of us.

Okay. So. Just a warning. This chapter -and I say this lightly as it turned into more of a little novella- is extremely angsty. VERY angsty. So, I mean. If you want the fluff, there may be bits. But. Well. Not too much really?

Because this ended up being so long, we have painstakingly split this into four parts that will be posted once a week throughout July. Probably on Saturday. So, keep your eyes peeled!

We hope you like this? R&R if you do!

 **What Dreams May Come**

 **Ruthless in Heels**

 **Part 1**

This time he fought the inevitable summons of consciousness. With eyes still clenched firmly shut, he tried to forcibly keep himself asleep, even as he became aware that he was laying on something not-so-comfortable, and that there was a twinging ache at the nape of his neck. Probably from the awkward position his body was wrenched into.

He knew already, with a painful ball of dread coiled in the pit of his stomach like a piece of lead, that he wasn't free. That he'd managed to accomplish absolutely _nothing_ by ending that last nightmare. And dammit, he was still reeling from that last one; a vision of Usagi, scantily dressed, her eyes shining darkly. Kunzite dead on the floor. He wasn't sure how much longer he could do this, and the thought of opening his eyes to another fucked up dream world was unbearable.

Still, just like every other time, he didn't have a choice. Which was made painfully clear by a sharp jab in his ribs that startled him. His eyes instinctively flew open as he hissed a pained breath through gritted teeth.

It took a moment, like always, for his blurred vision to focus and adjust onto his surroundings. He did not expect to be peering up into the angled, angry features of Nephrite, whose green eyes were flashing in annoyance as he leaned over him.

"Seriously?" The long-haired general snapped. "You know that they're going to be here in less than ten minutes, and you're fucking _sleeping_?"

Mamoru inwardly groaned at Nephrite's panic-ridden, rage-filled exclamation, and he settled with glaring back up at him as he slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position, carefully stretching the kink in his neck and arms as he went. He was so tired of trying to figure out what was going on all the time. Though, as usual, he felt that pull. The anxiety induced _need_ to find Usagi and save her from… well… wherever the hell they were this time.

Nephrite stepped back, arms crossed with irritation, broad shoulders squared angrily as he waited. Presumably for him to say something.

Mamoru was at a loss for words, like he usually was, as his gaze slid quickly over his surroundings for some kind of clue or indication into what he'd been thrown into this time. So far, it appeared to be a regular, albeit very run down, storage room of sorts. Boxes and broken crates pressed up along dirty stone-edged walls. Nephrite himself was dressed casually, blue jeans, black hoodie, hair pulled back into an unkempt bun at the nape of his neck.

Internally, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was not in the mood for another Wonderland right now, and this appeared … normal. Shady, maybe. But at least he hadn't woken up to talking flowers or something equally as fantastical.

Nephrite exhaled loudly, angrily, "No, no. That's fine, Chiba," he growled, jaw clenched in annoyance. "Just take your time. Not like our lives depend on it or anything."

The cutting edge laced into his words didn't escape Mamoru's attention, and he mentally prepared himself for the worst. At this point, he liked to think that he was pretty good at pretending as if he knew exactly who he was supposed to be. So, with an ease he never would have managed before the nightmares began, he shrugged with a contrived nonchalance as he pulled himself to his feet.

He noted that he was dressed in an equally casual manner as Nephrite before he forcibly kept his expression neutral and faced the sour-faced General. Was he the type to apologize in this world? Well, he was about to find out...

"Sorry, guess I wasn't feeling that great," he murmured, and Neph's eyes widened in confusion, caught off guard.

 _Nope._ Apparently, he was _not_ the type to apologize. Well, fuck.

Nephrite shook his head slowly, suspicion flashing in his eyes mingled with irritated disgust. "We don't have time for this," he sneered, apparently willing to let his seemingly out of character behavior slide. "Are you coming? She's going to be here this time… and, trust me, Chiba. You don't want to fuck up around her."

Mamoru perked up at the mention of a ' _she,_ ' though he knew better than to actually be hopeful that it was Usagi at this point. Hell, it was probably Beryl. Or maybe Galaxia dressed up in a belly-dancing outfit. The horrifying possibilities were endless.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and cleared his throat. "Of course I know how… dangerous she can be," he replied, hoping that he'd infused enough confidence into his voice to fool Nephrite.

Again, apparently, he hadn't succeeded because Nephrites eyes narrowed. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he demanded, and Mamoru couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips.

Ah, hell. What did it matter anyway? "Nothing is wrong with me," he spat back, this time his frustration of the unknown seeping into his tone. "Are we going to go, or not?"

He had no idea where they were supposed to be going, or what the hell they were doing, but his comment seemed to snap Nephrite out of his suspicious daze. The russet-haired General nodded curtly before twisting on his heels and disappearing beyond a darkened doorway without a glance back.

Obviously, he was meant to follow him, and Mamoru inhaled deeply, jaw clenched, a steely glint in his eyes as he stared at the unfamiliar outlines in the dark, dusty hallway where Nephrite had disappeared.

He didn't want to do this anymore. He was tired, mentally drained, and more than anything, he wished this whole thing would just be over. Visions of Usagi, bright-eyed, and laughing flashed through his memories, and he knew that it didn't matter _how_ hard this was. He'd promised her that he would _never_ give up.

He let the frustration take over for only a moment more, the self-pity coursing violently through his veins before he forcibly let it go; steeled himself for the impossible, and stepped through the door.

He'd walk through Hell a hundred times over to save her. He just wished he knew what heart-wrenching, fiery circle he was getting himself into now.

oOo

The first thing that became apparent to him as he walked into the brightly lit open space of a warehouse was that _whoever_ he was in this world was clearly into some shady dealings. He'd seen the movies, the nauseatingly cliched settings, and this place held all of that and more.

Flickering fluorescent lights in a dirty, questionable warehouse, _probably in the middle of nowhere,_ with crate stacked onto crate filled with —if Nephrite's shifty behavior was any indication— something not-so-legal.

Mamoru halted, exhaling deeply with misery-filled resignation, as he watched his former general move towards the crates that must have just been brought in. His cobalt blue gaze flicked shrewdly towards the trail in the dirt and grime on the cement warehouse floor. It led from a rolling steel service door that was still partially pulled open. It was also devoid of the thin layer of dust that seemed to coat everything else in this room. That, topped with the nervous way in which Nephrite kept shifting, his gaze flipping frantically from the crates to the wide, double steel doors at the other side of the warehouse, was enough information for Mamoru to conclude that he was probably a grunt worker in some kind of criminal exchange.

His jaw clenched, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. _Great_. This promised to be an anxiety-ridden, horrible corner of hell, and he was rethinking his thoughts on talking flowers and their benefits when the doors that Nephrite has been anxiously surveying swung open with a grinding, ominously loud screech as it slowly scraped across the floor.

Neph visibly tensed, and Mamoru twisted around, more curious than afraid at this point, as he fixed his gaze onto the door.

Kunzite, sleekly dressed in a black pinstripe suit that looked expensive, his silver hair slicked back and clipped into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, was the first to walk through the door. Mamoru barely had time to feel relief that he hadn't _actually_ died in the last nightmare when he was followed closely by Makoto.

His brows drew together into a frown, his heart started to race, as he carefully studied her expression. Kunzite's expression was hard, chiseled, sloping features twisted into something dark and dangerous. Makoto though, her face was pale, devoid of any color, her eyes wide and filled with terror.

Her gaze shifted around the warehouse in quick, confused movements, that led him to believe that she had no idea where she was. His breath hitched in his throat. _Was she awake?_ When her gaze fell onto Nephrite, and her eyes widened in startled shock as she opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, before she wordlessly snapped it shut, he was inclined to believe that she was awake. _He'd been wrong before, though, s_ o he didn't say a word as the pair approached them.

Kunzite halted, and his eyes swept over him, then Nephrite, before his lip curled up into a sneer of disgust. "Is it just the both of you?" He demanded sharply; his posture coiled so tightly Mamoru thought for sure he might snap.

Neph took a fumbled step forward, and it was evident by the flushed look of fear on his face, that he was terrified of Kunzite. He probably would have been too, if he'd bothered to keep his eyes locked onto the silver-haired… assassin, maybe? Gangster? Instead, he was watching Makoto, who could not pull her eyes away from Nephrite. She was practically trembling with confusion and that, more than anything, was what cemented his deduced conclusion that Makoto was the one awake.

She was wearing the same expression on Ami's face when she'd been forced to question a dark, tweedle version of Zoisite. On Rei's face when she'd found herself married to Jadeite as a lawyer, and finally, the pained, sorrow-filled look on Minako's face when she'd asked permission to pursue the hardened general that was glaring at them now.

He wanted her to look back over at him so that he could try and convey something in his expression, but she was clearly too overwhelmed to take her eyes off of Nephrite. Which, he understood. He'd been through this more times than he liked to admit, but this was her first time, and seeing your dead lover brought back to life in a twisted, fucked up world where nobody was who they should be, was a hard pill to swallow.

Nephrite interrupted his misery-filled inner-musings with a sharp jab to his ribs. "Yes, sir. It's just us," he replied, his tone submissive and filled with a nervous addled twinge that made Mamoru frown.

He was clearly terrified. What the hell was the deal, exactly? Would Usagi be a prisoner? Did she even have anything to do with any of this?

Kunzite's sneer deepened, and he scoffed in disdain, automatically dismissing Nephrite in disgust before his icy-blue eyes slid slowly onto him. It was probably a bad idea, but he was past the point of caring, and he met the general's gaze with a steady, unflinching stare of his own.

The slightest of creases puckered onto the silver-haired general's forehead, and there was a momentary hint of curiosity. "I've never seen you before," he stated, his tone matter of fact, angry.

Nephrite cleared his throat, "I can vouch for him, sir. He's been working with us for a couple of months now. He—"

Kunzite furiously interrupted him. "Was I speaking to you?" He snarled, and Nephrite tensed, visibly swallowing as he sheepishly shook his head.

"No, I'm sorry. Of course not."

This was not the Nephrite that had woken him up in the back room, and Mamoru felt his first twinge of fear curled up in his chest. Kunzite, and whatever the hell they were doing here, was dangerous.

Mamoru forcibly kept a neutral expression as he took a step forward. "I'm a worker, just like Nephrite," he began, his tone surprisingly steady as he prepared to take a risk on a calculated guess. "I do what I'm told, and I keep my mouth shut."

This seemed to mollify Kunzite, whose rage-filled eyes cooled considerably. He was pretty sure he'd pulled that line from one of the mind-numbingly inaccurate action movies he'd sat down to watch with Usagi before the nightmares. Lucky for him, he'd fought meaner monsters than big bad Kunzite and his anger issues.

Kunzite nodded and twisted towards Makoto. "It's clear, go and get her," he demanded. Mamoru frowned, and it was clear that Makoto hadn't heard him at first. His heart involuntarily quickened nervously for her. _Come on, Mako. Get it together._ Kunzite's face flickered with rage and impatience. "Makoto!" he bellowed, and Mamoru's heart went out to the brunette who sucked in a loud breath of startled air and jumped at the sound of the general's command.

It was painful to see the Amazonian, Senshi warrior princess of Jupiter falter. "Sorry! Yes!" She blurted, and he inwardly winced at Kunzite's brutally savage glare.

"What the fuck is wrong with you today, Kino?" He snapped, "Get it together!"

His eyes followed Makoto who swiveled around, her footing unsteady, as the ordinarily graceful Senshi scrambled back towards the door. There wasn't any point in saying anything out loud, yet. He'd have to find a way to get her alone so that he could tell her what was going on. Then, just like all the nightmares that had preceded this one, they'd find Usagi together.

"Where's the shipment?" Kunzite demanded, and the harshly quipped question was directed at him.

Nephrites expression darkened in jealousy and Mamoru resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Apparently, his generic statement of loyalty had made an impact. _Great_ , he could play a believable thug. He could add that to the ever-growing list of irrelevant skills on his resume when this was all over.

Too bad he didn't know where the shipment was… or _what_ it was for that matter, and he was infinitely grateful that Nephrite wasn't taking his momentary flare of jealousy to extremes, when his former long-haired friend came to the rescue.

"It's in the crates," he grunted, gesturing towards the wooden planked boxes that Mamoru had noticed earlier.

For a second, he thought Kunzite was going to snap again, but, luckily, he seemed more concerned with said crates as he didn't even acknowledge Nephrite and swept past him toward the shipment.

Nephrites eyes narrowed in a 'are you trying to fucking _kill_ us?' expression and Mamoru shrugged in response. He was walking a strange blurred line in this nightmare. Torn between emotional exhaustion that was daring him to throw caution to the wind, and that familiar fear-driven need and urgency to save Usagi from yet another expertly crafted world of things meant to torture her.

He was contemplating his next step when the doors opened once again, the loud scraping noise instinctively, pulling his gaze towards it.

He froze, his heart skipping a painful beat, at the vision that walked through that door.

God. It was Usagi. But, once again, the bodiless monsters had managed to plunge their grimy hands into his chest to squeeze the breath from his lungs. It _was_ Usagi, but it wasn't. Usagi, his sweet, gentle princess, generally dressed in bright colors, her eyes shining brightly, with odangoed tresses rippling over her shoulder, was not who walked through that door.

He shouldn't have been surprised by anything at this point. Hell, _darkness_ had taken on a whole new meaning in their last nightmare, but this was different somehow. There was a panther-like grace to her movements. She was confident, graceful, as she moved towards them, Makoto trailing nervously behind her.

She wore a black pinstripe dress that mirrored Kunzites suit, and it molded perfectly to slender curves. The silk-like material, stretched taut across her hips and chest with every step she took, as it cinched seductively at her waist and cut off just above her knees, exposing bared, endlessly long legs in black stilettos. _His_ Usako would have tripped in shoes like that. This Usako, though, didn't miss a beat.

He wasn't sure what it was, particularly, that bothered him about this Usagi. At first, he thought it was the outfit, dark and seductive, but she'd been wearing less in the other nightmares. And it couldn't be the absence of her signature odango hairstyle, where she now had her hair pulled back into a simple yet elegant ponytail at the crown of her head, glimmering glossy waves rolling down her back. She'd sported several different hairstyles throughout their time together in hell.

It took a moment, but when it hit him, it felt like he couldn't breathe. It was the _look_ in her eyes. In every other nightmare, he'd still been able to glimpse a piece of _her_ shining from behind the sapphire blue pools in her eyes. This time, there was nothing but a callous, cold-filled contempt that filled him with dread.

He couldn't breathe as the implications for what that meant painfully pressed into his heart. _God,_ what if the rules had changed? What if they'd entrenched them in so many plots, and twisted, pain-filled memories of too many different lives into her head that she'd finally succumbed? What if… what if he couldn't save her?

That horrifying thought twisted his heart so painfully in his chest that his hands shook as his fingers curled into fists and pressed into his sides. _No._ He _refused_ to believe it. Just like that, the blurred line that separated his hope and his exhausted self-pity disappeared and renewed his vigorous determination to get them the fuck out of here.

Usagi didn't even spare him a glance as she swept past him and moved to stand beside Kunzite that had seemingly located a crowbar from amidst the rubble and trash in the warehouse.

His throat constricted when Usagi, _his Usako,_ gently laid a hand on Kunzites arm as she casually graced him with a satisfied smile. "Hold on, brother," she practically purred. Her tone sickeningly sweet, her inflection laced with an un-Usagi like maliciousness that made his stomach churn violently. "What is the point of hiring people that have," —she flicked a contemptuous sneer at Mamoru over her shoulder— " _Unfortunate_ upbringings, willing to do anything we pay them to do if we have to open our own crates?"

The way she spoke, her voice dripping with unfettered disdain, was ripping him into shreds. This wasn't her. She'd _never_ casually dismissed anyone with prejudice and indignation in her entire life.

It was difficult, but he clenched his jaw and forced himself to keep the horrified expression off of his face. Makoto, he noted, was not as successful as he was, and he hoped to God the others didn't notice the way her fingers were pressed to her lips parted in shock, and her features were contorted into disbelieving disgust.

Kunzite chuckled warmly, an amused grin curling onto his face in a cold snake-like manner. "As always, sweet sister, you're absolutely right," he agreed, the hardened icy blues of his eyes warming as he peered down at Usagi.

He expected it when Kunzite twisted around to face him, his expression menacing as he thrust the steeled crowbar out to him. "Open it," he demanded icily.

He didn't have to wonder what the idiot in the action movie was thinking by blindingly following orders anymore as he leaned over and reluctantly took the tool from Kunzite's outstretched hand.

He swallowed nervously, trying to ignore the almost predatory look in Usagi's eyes as she watched him step forward. This nightmare was painful in an entirely different way, and he didn't know how to proceed from here as he lifted the steeled tool and pried it in between the lid and the box.

It briefly occurred to him that whatever was in this box was more than likely not going to be good, but, when the lid popped off with a piercing crack as it splintered the wood, he wasn't entirely successful at hiding the expression of horrified dismay that crossed his face by what was inside.

Usagi giggled harshly, the trill sound a mocking, sickeningly sweet sound that was an insult to the sweet girl that was his Usako. "What's wrong, handsome?" She drawled, and his lips pressed together into a grim line as he steadily met her gaze. "Haven't you ever seen a gun before?"

No. He hadn't. Because Japan was one of the countries in the world with the strictest gun laws. The punishment for a civilian to possess a gun, fiercely harsh. Which was why a crate filled with _hundreds_ of them was bad. Really bad.

When he didn't respond to Usagi's taunt, the corners of her beautiful lips curled up into a slow, mocking smile. It broke his heart. She leaned over, slender fingers wrapping around the handle as she pulled it from the box. Her eyes shone with an excitement that made him want to rip the fucking thing from her hands.

Every single one of her movements were slow, calculatingly seductive as she ran a slender, perfectly manicured index finger along the edge of the barrel. "Isn't it beautiful?" She whispered breathlessly, taking a step towards him, closing the gap between them. He was frozen, his heart thudding in his chest and his eyes locked onto hers as her smile widened. "There's something powerful about a _gun,"_ she practically whispered, her warm breath fanning across his face. "All I have to do..." she twisted the barrel of the weapon towards him and pressed it against his chest. "Is pull the trigger and _poof!_ You're dead."

He was pretty sure he was going to be sick. Because he didn't know who this girl was. His Usako wouldn't relish in death and pain, and he never in a million years could have ever imagined her behaving like _this._ Was the ultimate goal of the monsters who kept doing this to them to destroy any remnants of the Usagi he knew and loved? Was it too late? Had they succeeded?

He sucked in a pained breath, and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes at the horrifying thoughts when the sweet smell of lavender and vanilla assaulted his senses. It grounded him, snapped him out of it. Because she was still in there. _She just had to be._

He did the only thing that he could think of. It was as if time slowed, gun pressed to his chest, a mocking sneer curled onto her lips, as he lifted his hand, his expression tender, as he tucked a curled tendril of hair behind her ear. He'd caught her off guard, and the seductively calculated look that seemed to be a permanent fixture on this Usagi disappeared for a moment as her eyes widened slightly and she inhaled sharply.

It was there. He'd _seen_ it flash in her eyes; a vulnerability that gave him hope. It passed quickly though, and Kunzite ripped him backward, and Usagi's expression hardened with fury.

Kunzite's eyes were filled with unfettered rage as he wrapped a fist into the fabric of his shirt. "What the fuck do you…"

One second, he was stoically facing off with the steely-eyed general, and the next it was like all hell had broken loose. The warehouse doors that they had entered through burst open once again. This time, two men swept through the door, guns raised, uniformed officers. _Fuck_.

There were shouts to lift their hands in the air, crisp demands to surrender. He stepped back, in a daze, heard Makoto's cry of dismay, and Nephrite's harshly whispered curse. His eyes were locked onto Usagi's face, though, and he didn't react in time to prevent what happened next.

"They've seen my face, Kunz," she spat furiously, her tone filled with a rage he'd never heard spill from her lips before.

He wasn't sure what she meant. There were no other options. They needed to give in, and then maybe he could find a way to get through to her when they brought them in.

He expected them both to surrender, but that was not what happened. Kunzite nodded, and a small, determined smile split onto Usagi's face. Her grip tightened on the gun that she'd had pointed at him only moments before, and with startlingly cold precision, she lifted the weapon, expertly flicked the safety off, and fired.

Makoto screamed as the bullet soared through the air, piercing the tawny-haired officer in the neck. The man crumpled to the floor just as the second officer radioed for backup before he fired his weapon, too. It narrowly missed Kunzite, and he could only watch in horror as the general pulled Usagi into his arms, shielding her before he yanked the weapon from her hand and shot a second time. His aim rang true and the second officer let out a gurgling gasp as his body curled forward and he fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

He couldn't breathe, his vision blurring in disbelief, because there was _no way_ that his Moon princess, his bright and beautiful warrior of _justice_ and _love_ , had purposely shot and killed a police officer without a second thought.

He didn't have time to dwell on anything though, because there was a swarm of people that began to pour in through the doorway, all cops, all angrily shouting with guns raised. In the moment that he'd spent staring helplessly ahead, momentarily frozen in disbelief, Usagi and Kunzite had slipped away.

Nephrite, apparently, had decided that he wasn't going down without a fight, and he realized, with horrified disbelief, that he was standing in the crossfire of a real, honest to god, police shootout.

With a harshly bellowed expletive, he dove behind the crate of guns, barely missing getting _shot_ himself. Makoto had done the same thing, and he almost collided into her kneeling, trembling form. He didn't know _how_ long one person could hold off a group of armed, trained officers, and he knew he only had mere seconds to react.

Makoto's eyes met his, and they were filled with confused-terror, laced with trepidation. Which, he could understand. She had no clue if he was himself, where she was, and what was going on.

He inhaled deeply, the muscles in his body coiled tightly in anticipation. He was infinitely grateful for the flexibility that had been granted to him with the powers of Tuxedo Kamen at that moment. And, in a breathtaking, terrifying split-second decision, he firmly grasped Makoto's wrist and vaulted to his feet, pulling her lithe form up with him.

"Wait, Mamoru—" she whispered hoarsely, but there wasn't time to think, much less stop and explain, and he forcibly tugged her forward, ignoring her yelp of pain.

His heart hammered brutally fast within the cavity of his chest, blood racing with adrenaline when they reached his intended destination. He twisted around, wrapped his arms around the brunette and threw them both onto the floor. His elbow and the side of his head cracked painfully onto the pavement, and his vision blurred, white lights exploding behind his eyelids. His ears rang as he tightened his arms around Makoto's waist and promptly twisted onto his back, clumsily rolling them beneath the small opening underneath the steel rolling service door.

The impulsive movement knocked the breath out of his lungs, and he stumbled dizzily as he untangled himself from Makoto and fumbled to his feet. It was dark outside, and they were clearly in the back alley of some kind of sketchy looking loading dock. There wasn't time to admire the scenery, though, and he leaned forward and grasped Makoto's wrist again.

He was sure that he was bruising her, and this time, she yanked her arm away from him. "No! Let go of me!" she hissed, her eyes darting wildly around them, her hair askew. "What is going on right now? I can't even—"

He knew that she was terrified, confused, probably feeling a vast array of painful emotions. But the sound of shooting guns had abruptly stopped, and there wasn't time for this.

"Mako, there isn't time for you to freeze up," he snapped. "Get it together, Jupiter. We have to go."

His fervently whispered demand caught her off guard. Her eyes widened, and he could see the wheels turning in her head. Makoto was a fighter; loyal, fiercely protective and possessed the ability to make snap decisions to protect the ones she loved. He'd seen it in battle, and this time was no exception.

She nodded curtly, her eyes hardening with determination as the terror melted away from her expression. "Let's go."

He didn't think about it. They both turned, swiveling on their heels, and ran. The only sounds he could make out was the methodical thudding as the soles of their shoes hit the pavement, Makoto's ragged breathing, and the wind whistling in his ears. He concentrated on making it out of there with a single-minded focus that took every thought from his mind. Which was good, because if he didn't, all he would be able to remember was the sight of Usagi, a malicious smile on her lips, as she callously fired a gun.

oOo

When they finally stopped, lungs burning, muscles aching and screaming in protest, it was underneath the flickering light of a streetlamp on a busy street that was still bustling with activity. Even at this late hour.

Makoto didn't say a word as they wordlessly stood side by side, their breathing ragged as they caught their breath. When it felt like he could finally breathe without feeling like his throat was on fire, he straightened, ignoring the aching thud emanating from where he'd hit his head, and raked his fingers through his hair.

Had they run far enough? What the hell had even _happened_ back there? He was trying to process the adrenaline-filled moments that had preceded this one when Makoto firmly grasped his arm.

He winced as his gaze slid onto her. She was a mess; strands of chestnut-brown hair pulled from her ponytail, askew and sideways on the crown of her head. Blood was dripping from a nasty looking gash above her left eye. _Had that happened before or after he'd thrown her onto the ground?_ While her physical appearance had definitely seen better days, that was currently not the most painful thing about her. It was the hardened anguish etched onto the contours of her face, and shining from the depths of confusion-filled eyes.

"Please tell me that I'm not crazy," she pleaded hoarsely, tugging painfully at his heartstrings. "Tell me that Jupiter is not just some crazy nickname that you use and that you aren't really some sketchy thug in a warehouse…" she trailed off, visibly swallowing before continuing. "Because, I'm going to be really honest here, Mamoru. I think I might be losing my mind."

Her eyes welled with tears, and her lower lip quivered, even as her expression still reflected the frustration he knew she was feeling.

He shook his head and gently grasped her wrist. "No, you aren't crazy, Makoto," he reassured, squeezing her hand in an attempt to comfort her. "Trust me, I know this is a lot..." he murmured, and Makoto let out a bark of disbelieving laughter, promptly interrupting him.

She violently pulled away, her face contorted into a look of agony-filled, rage. " _A lot?_ " she hissed. "Mamoru! This is…" she shook her head, her mouth parted mid-sentence, as she seemingly searched for the right words. "Who the hell _was_ that back there?" She settled on demanding. "Because that sure as hell was _not_ Usagi Tsukino!" She practically bellowed, her eyes burning wildly with bubbling hysteria.

Mamoru sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily as he clenched his eyes shut. "I know that was hard to see…" he took a deep, cleansing breath. Hell, _he_ could barely handle it, and he was not a novice to this type of hell _._ He opened his eyes, steadily fixing onto Makoto's watchful gaze. "I promise you, that was Usagi."

Makoto shook her head slowly, the light above them flickering, bathing half of her face in shadows. " _No,"_ she denied vehemently. "That Usagi…Mamoru. I woke up in a mansion, to friends who were no longer my friends, and Usagi…" her eyes welled with tears again, and she choked on her words. "She's a terrifying _nightmare."_

Makoto had unknowingly nailed it, and Mamoru nodded. "Yes, Makoto," he agreed quietly. "This is a nightmare."

Her eyes widened, still filled with confusion. "What?" She spat. "What does that even mean?"

He opened his mouth to tell her, to explain everything, when he noted that there was a crowd gathering. Civilians slowing, their eyes shifting nervously from Mamoru to Makoto. _What the hell?_ He couldn't help but notice that there were several people who, with one glance at Makoto, averted their gaze and rushed by fearfully.

Makoto's brow creased in confusion when Mamoru suddenly stopped talking, and she whipped around, her eyes darting over the people that were seemingly afraid of her.

She groaned and took a step back to stand beside him. "Mamoru," she whispered raspily. "I'm pretty sure they're afraid of me," she admitted quietly. "I didn't understand a lot about what was going on when I woke up this morning, but I have a feeling I'm a part of… something dangerous."

He grimaced and nodded in understanding. She'd been with Kunzite and Usagi, and they were… He couldn't bear to finish that thought.

He inhaled sharply before facing Makoto. "We need to go somewhere and talk." His tone was matter of fact. They were exposed, and he had no idea what horrors had been crafted for them here.

The Mamoru of this world clearly hadn't lived in the warehouse, and he buried his hands in his pockets in search of a clue. His fingers curled around what was clearly a phone, and something jagged. His brow creased in concentration as he pulled the phone and a single key hanging from a plastic, flat-edged keychain. The faded words Bay motel etched above the number 6.

He breathed a sigh of relief, because, surprisingly, he recognized it. They were in Koto city, and Bay motel resided across the street from a wharf along the edge of Tokyo Bay.

He met Makoto's gaze, his eyes wide and filled with purposeful determination. "Come on, I know where we are."

Makoto didn't protest when he twisted, his eyes scanning the surrounding street signs as he began to lead the way.

oOo

Makoto's face was pale, her lips pressed into a grim line, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned back against the cheap, broken plywood desk pressed against a yellowed wall. He squinted, the dim lighting barely sufficient, as they stood inside the seedy motel room that he was, apparently, currently residing in.

Of all of the Senshi that had managed to stay awake, Makoto was having the most difficult time processing what was happening. Rei had relied on wisdom to help manage. Ami had depended on calculated logic to keep her sane. And Minako… well, Minako was Minako.

Makoto, though, while she appeared tough on the outside, he knew she was sensitive at heart. And, her fierce loyalty to the sweet, bubbly girl, that was usually a beacon of hope to so many, made seeing a gangster Usagi _that_ much more difficult. So, to see Makoto react this way after he'd calmly, with all of the patience he could muster, explained to her in great detail what was currently happening to them, wasn't unexpected.

In some ways, this was harder than what the other Senshi had witnessed. _This_ wasn't the same as seeing Usagi dressed like a sweet, innocent rabbit. This was different; it was difficult for _him_ to see her this way, even after everything he'd been through with her. So, he understood Makoto's need for time.

She sighed, shifting her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other before straightening and raking a frustrated palm over her face. "So, you've done this several times?" She demanded hoarsely, her eyes finally focusing as she snapped out of her inner musings and fixed her gaze onto his face.

He nodded mutely in response and watched as, with a groan of dismay, she angrily pushed herself away from the desk to stand in the middle of the room with a look of unfettered frustration on her face.

He patiently leaned against the wall, his eyes following her for several minutes as she paced the small length of the room, stopped, shook her head, scoffed in disbelief many times before finally halting and twisting on her heels to face him.

She met his gaze, and for the first time since they'd arrived at the motel, her eyes were clear and filled with that stalwart Senshi determination.

She exhaled slowly, chewing on the back of her thumbnail, a frown creased onto her brow. "Was that really him, Mamoru?" Her tone was tentative, afraid almost.

His brows drew together, and he shook his head in confusion. "Who?" If his brain wasn't so addled, if he wasn't so rattled by having to do this _once_ _again,_ he probably could have figured it out.

Makoto rolled her eyes, "Nephrite, Mamoru," she snapped, annoyed, her tone slightly hysterical. "Was that him?"

He cringed at the trill sound laced into her tone, pushed away from the wall that he'd been leaning against and raked his fingers through his hair. "I'm not sure, Makoto," he admitted honestly. "I think it's him, and the other Generals too. Don't ask me how it's possible. I don't know," his tone was a bit harsher than he intended.

Makoto wasn't fazed, and she closed her eyes, clenched her fists into her sides, and exhaled slowly before meeting his gaze again. "And you've seen me? In these other nightmares?"

He nodded slowly in response. "Yes. This is the first time you've been aware," he hadn't gone into depth about the other nightmares, unwilling to relive some of the moments himself. His lips twitched, hinting at a smile at one particular memory, though. "You were once the mad hatter, actually," he admitted with a rueful shrug and an involuntary chuckle.

In retrospect, maybe they _would_ be able to laugh about some of the memories… he shook his head with disgust. They needed to get out of here first, and their enemies needed to be thoroughly destroyed before he could get past the bitterness of what had been done to them before he could laugh about _anything_.

Makoto's nose wrinkled up with distaste. "Mad hatter? Like in Alice in Wonderland?"

The corners of his lips quirked up into a small smile at that. "You've read Alice in Wonderland?" He probed; brow raised curiously.

Makoto blinked and tilted her head to the side as she graced him with a look of disbelieving annoyance. "Of course, I've read it. Who the hell hasn't read Alice in Wonderland?" She demanded, propping fists onto her hips.

He bit back a groan at the irony in her statement and took a step towards her instead. "You'd be surprised," he murmured under his breath, thoughts of Ami as the caterpillar flashing through his head before he took a deep breath and continued. "The only way to get out of here is to remind Usagi of who she is—"

Makoto interrupted him. "By admitting she loves you?" She demanded again, but there was a glint of suspicion in her eyes.

Mamoru frowned and nodded. "Yes, that's been what's worked so far…" he trailed off because Makoto's expression made him pause.

With one hand still propped on her hip, while tapping her lips with the index finger of her other hand in quiet contemplation, her eyes glazed over and fixed onto a random spot on the wall as she became lost in thought.

"Makoto?" He asked hesitantly, one brow raised in question.

Makoto shook her head, "Well, don't you think that's weird, Mamoru?" She whispered suspiciously, clearly disconcerted; strands of chestnut-brown hair toppling over her shoulders with her movements.

His brow furrowed because he wasn't sure, exactly, what she meant. "Yeah," he responded sardonically, with a bark of derisive laughter. "I'd say _weird_ is putting it mildly, Makoto," he replied drily, with a humorless laugh.

He couldn't be sure, but he thought he might have heard the sound of Makoto grinding her teeth as she took a deep breath. "That's not what I meant," she snapped angrily. "I _mean_ that it's strange that Usagi's admission of love is the only thing that kills this whole," she gestured around her with angry vehemence, "Horrible, nightmarish world, or whatever!" She crossed her arms again, her shrewd gaze steadily meeting his. "Have you stopped to wonder why that is? Except for that one time, when you woke up in the lab, have you ever even seen the enemy?"

These things _had_ occurred to him, and his first inclination was to be annoyed with Makoto for thinking that they hadn't. It disappeared like a defeated wisp of resignation, though, when he opened his mouth to retort hotly. With a step back and a sigh of crushing surrender, he sat down onto the edge of the bed, propped his elbows onto his knees and raked his hands over his face with barely restrained misery.

His eyes flashed angrily as they met Makoto's almost accusing glare. "Trust me, Makoto," he snapped. "I've thought of nothing _but_ getting us out of here."

Guilt crept up from the pit of his churning stomach, though, because that wasn't entirely true. He grimaced and buried his head in his hands with a grunt of frustration, because truthfully this was utterly exhausting, and when he thought about wading through this world, with gangsters, guns and a cold, unreachable Usagi... Well, it didn't leave much room to think about the bigger picture.

Makoto sighed, and he lifted his head to meet her gaze. She'd come to terms with all of this, finally, and her face was etched with a resolute fortitude that made him exhale with relief. "Well, alright then," she began, her tone steady and unwavering, unlike when they'd first entered the room. "Give me your phone," she demanded, shoulders squared, stance set in a way that left no room for argument as she thrust out her hand.

He'd already forgotten about the cheap, scuffed, older Samsung device he'd discovered in his pocket earlier, and he fished it back out and promptly placed it in her palm.

Her brow furrowed as she took it, and it lit up her face as she swiped a finger across the screen. "What's your password?" She asked absentmindedly, her eyes firmly fixed onto the phones on-screen keypad.

He shrugged and bit back a sigh of irritation. "I have no idea. It could be anything… I doubt that it's what it would usually be," he murmured, a pang of pain reverberating in his chest.

Makoto met his eyes for a brief moment before they flicked back down onto the phone. "Which is?" She asked, her face screwed up in concentration. "I only have two attempts left. So, may as well try it."

He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "0630," he replied, barely above a whisper, tone laced with emotion that he was having a tough time trying to keep at bay.

Makoto froze, and she flicked her eyes onto his again. They shone painfully with the grief and desperation that mirrored precisely what he felt because June 30th was Usagi's birthday. Thankfully, Makoto didn't comment though, and her fingers pressed in the numbers. Her face fell with disappointment because, just like he'd known it would, it hadn't worked. He didn't know Usagi in this world. The Mamoru of this world was a gun smuggling grunt worker in a warehouse. Someone inconsequential who had never met her. In fact, he was probably an…

"Idiot," Makoto scoffed with a bark of disbelieving laughter.

Mamoru frowned. "What?"

She lifted her gaze from 'his' phone, a smug, Makoto-like half-smile curled onto her lips, and a perfectly manicured brow arched in triumph. "The Mamoru of this nightmare is an _idiot,"_ she exclaimed with amusement. "Your password is 1111."

He grimaced. _Of course._

She quickly typed something into the phone, pressed send, then tossed the phone back onto his lap. The frown that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face deepened at the sharp muffled sound that 'pinged' from within Makoto's faded black, leather jacket.

Her eyes widened, "What?" She asked innocently, "The first thing I did when I woke up this morning was to search my phone for clues." He bit back a groan. _Of course._ It never occurred to him, in any nightmare, to look at his phone. At least Makoto was being nicer about it than Minako had. "And now I have your number," she exclaimed with contrived brightness and a forced smile.

Then, with a determined nod, she swiveled around and, with a confidence that was more reminiscent of the Senshi of Jupiter, strode to the door. He didn't realize that she meant to leave until her hand was poised on the cheap brass handle.

His posture stiffened, and he scowled in confusion. "Where are you going?" He demanded and, not for the first time, his heart quickened as the desperation crept in once again.

Makoto glanced over her shoulder, a reassuring smile on her lips. "Well, you need to get to Usagi," she began staunchly. "I'm going back to get you an in, Mamoru," she stated bravely, though he noted that she visibly swallowed, and her hand shook slightly on the door.

His expression softened, and he nodded. "Be careful, Makoto," he replied softly, and though it was meant to be conveyed with heartfelt sincerity, he knew that it probably didn't offer her much comfort. He'd only glimpsed a piece of what they'd done to Usagi in this world, and he could only imagine how horrible it would be for her to go back there to that alone. "Just remember that it's not her fault," he pleaded, because his Usako was still in there. "And this isn't real."

Makoto nodded, took a deep breath, and twisted the handle. "Keep an eye on your phone, Mamoru."

It was the last thing she said before she stepped over the threshold and out into the night. He resisted the urge to flinch as the door slammed shut behind her with a thudding finality that made his heart quicken in his chest.

He exhaled deeply, and let himself fall back onto the bed that was a tangled mess of coarsely-woven, questionably clean, blankets. Makoto was strong, and if anyone could thoroughly infiltrate a dangerous gang and get him in, it was her.

The thudding at the base of his skull intensified, and he clenched his eyes shut against the pain, his hand curled around the phone in dreaded anticipation. It only took seconds before he unwillingly succumbed to sleep.

oOo

It felt like he'd only closed his eyes for a few seconds when the sharp, urgent-sound of knocking on the door woke him up. His eyes flew open, panicked, slightly out of sorts, because he'd forgotten, for just a moment, where he was.

The sun's rays were trying to penetrate through the dark and grimy film layered on the single, partially cracked window in the room. It wasn't doing much for lighting, and it may as well have been covered in a blackout curtain. When it registered that the rising sun meant it was morning, Mamoru sucked in a pained, panicked breath and shot up into a sitting position. His blurred vision focused, and he quickly fumbled for his phone tangled up in the blankets. There weren't any notifications on the screen, and his heart sank. The time glaring up at him indicated that Makoto had left his room hours ago. _He should have heard from her by now._

He was startled by another sharp rap on his door, this time followed by the door handle twisting, in hurried, truncated movements. Luckily, the door locked automatically when it was shut, but Mamoru's heart began to race, adrenaline pumping through his veins, as he scrambled from the bed and, as quietly as possible, strode to the door.

He swallowed nervously; his eyes fixed onto the handle with dismay. He was tempted to throw caution to the wind, because _what if it was Makoto?_ But the things he'd witnessed up until this point was leading him to tread more carefully. What would happen if he died in a nightmare? Would Usagi and the others be trapped in here forever?

"Mamoru? Are you there?"

The voice was muffled, soft, and clearly female. It was oddly familiar and didn't _seem_ threatening. He wrestled with his indecision for a moment longer, before leaning forward, grasping the handle and pulling the door open.

He tried to pull it open slowly, err on the side of caution to peek out before opening it all the way, but he was forced to step back, as a slender female, with short, blue hair, elbowed her way in and flew past him in a whirlwind of energy.

He watched as her eyes quickly scanned the tiny motel room, before she whirled around, propped her fists onto her hips, and promptly glared at him. "What the hell, Mamoru?" She snapped furiously; her cheeks tinged red with anger.

So, apparently, warehouse-thug-Mamoru somehow had a connection to Ami. He prayed it wasn't anything romantic as he slowly shut the door behind her. It closed with a 'click' that echoed loudly throughout the room.

He forced a neutral expression on his face, and swept his gaze over her, in search of something, _anything,_ that might give him a clue about who she was to him in this world.

She was dressed somewhat casually, blue jeans, white shirt covered by an unzipped brown leather jacket, but his eyes widened slightly when he noted the _gun_ holstered to her hip. _Fuck._ Was she one of his bad-guy thug friends?

He must have stared too long, because she closed the gap between them, lifted her hand, and cupped his face. It wasn't in a tender way, though, and her fingers pressed painfully into the skin of his cheek and jaw as she violently yanked his head from one side to the other. Her eyes narrowed shrewdly as she seemingly inspected him.

He hissed through his teeth as her nail cut into his skin, and he forcibly pulled away from her and fixed her with a sullen glare as he ran his hand over his jaw that was now sore from her manhandling. "Ow, what the hell, Ami?" He snapped automatically and was infinitely grateful that they always managed to keep the same names in each nightmare.

Ami rolled her eyes but took a casual step back. "I'm just checking that you're actually okay," she spat furiously. "Because you must have hit your head, right? You would have had to in order to _forget_ checking in!" She practically growled, eyeing him expectantly, presumably waiting for him to respond.

He cringed, once again finding himself in a position where he had no idea what the hell was going on. "Sorry," He opted to apologize, though, admittedly, it was a bit weak.

Ami didn't like apologies in this world, either, apparently, because the scowl on her face intensified as she let out a bark of humorless laughter. " _Sorry?"_ she growled angrily. "That's a joke, right? You're kidding?" He had a feeling that her harshly murmured questions were rhetorical, so he opted not to answer. Which was the right decision as she ran her fingers through her hair, shook her head in disbelief before pacing the length of the room, much like Makoto had hours before.

If looks could kill, he'd be dead as she scowled at him. Her expression murderous, un-Ami-like, and slightly terrifying. "You were supposed to call it in before the shipment arrived, Mamoru!" She vented, her voice cracking with rage. "And, what else was I supposed to do when there was no god damn word from you? I had to call it! I _had_ to, Mamoru," her voice broke on her final statement, and she stopped pacing, the blood draining from her face as her lower lip quivered. "You could have been dead. They could have discovered you, and I know you might be mad because we've been working this case for _months_. But what was I supposed to do?"

Ami shuddered, clenching her eyes shut in misery, as he let her words sink in. _Send them in? Working the case? The gun on her hip?_ His eyes widened with the sudden realization. Damn, he truly was in a poorly written action movie. Because, if Ami's words were any indication, he wasn't just a thug in a warehouse. He was an undercover cop. He tried to slow the steadily rising beat of his heart by inhaling deeply because things had admittedly become more complicated.

He swallowed, stomped down the bubbling panic that was rising at an alarming rate, and took a step towards Ami. "Hey," he murmured softly, grasping both of her shoulders in an attempt to reassure her. "I'm sorry, Ami. Things got… complicated," he admitted quietly, and she lifted her gaze, the aquamarine hues of her eyes searching his. "I hit my head, and I meant to... Check-in, but I fell unconscious." It was a lame excuse, though partially true, and Ami seemed to buy it.

The anger melted off of her face, and he felt the tension dissipate beneath his fingers as she slumped her shoulders. "Were you there? At the warehouse?" She asked softly. "God, Mamoru. We were _so_ close, but the Tsukino's have their filthy hands everywhere!" She exclaimed, clearly distraught.

His heart was racing, because he wanted, no, _needed,_ to know more. But he didn't want to make Ami suspicious. He pulled away, took a step back, and ran his fingers through his hair. _Again._ Hopefully, dream Mamoru didn't affect his real-life body. If it did, he was probably bald.

He cleared his throat and carefully considered his next words. "What… what happened?" It was a simple enough question, and Ami didn't seem fazed by it.

Instead, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, before opening them again. They were wide and filled with raw disappointment. "We got the shipment. But, Usagi and her brother slipped through our fingers. Everything they touch rots, Mamoru," she whispered with an intense hatred that broke his heart. "We can't connect them to _anything._ God, even the Yakuza won't touch that fucking family and their entourage." His heart was racing because this all sounded really bad, and it didn't bode well for him, or Makoto that had apparently walked back into a lion's den.

Ami sighed sadly, crossed her arms over her chest, and turned away from him. "When I couldn't find you, and I pulled the plug on the sting operation, I thought for sure we were going to get them this time. Because, we managed to arrest one of their _thugs,"_ she sneered the word, the tone with which it spilled from her lips was chilling. here was a lot of hatred between his friends in this world. "But, he _escaped_ Mamoru. They paid off that rookie cop, you know, the dumb blonde. Mina- something. And they got away."

He wasn't able to stop the startled expression on his face at the mention of Minako's name, but it didn't matter because Ami wasn't really paying attention to him, anyway.

She laughed drily, miserably shaking her head. "He's probably dead now," she stated coldly, a mixture of anger and resignation laced into her tone. Her unfocused gaze cleared, and she fixed it onto him. "There's no way that cold-hearted bitch would have left him alive," she whispered, and he inhaled sharply because. God. She was talking about Usagi. His beautiful Usako. And that fucking _hurt._

Ami exhaled slowly; her eyes filled with desperation as she continued. "Did you see them there at the warehouse, Mamoru? Everything we have right now is circumstantial, but with a detective's testimony, an actual witness that she can't kill, or pay to have killed, we might have enough to get a warrant, and then—"

He instinctively interrupted her. "No," he blurted quickly. "They weren't there, Ami."

Ami's face fell with disappointment, deflated, she sighed miserably. If he _was_ an undercover cop and Usagi was indeed a stone-cold criminal, there was no way he was going to get her to admit that she loved him if they arrested her and he was exposed. _No_. He needed to remain undercover.

Ami visibly swallowed, then nodded as the bitter regret etched into the contours of her face, and shone from the pools of her eyes. "I think it's time to call it, Mamoru," she conceded miserably. "It's too dangerous, especially now. She probably knows that you were at the warehouse. Your life is in danger. You need to come in."

That was the very last thing he needed to do, and he promptly shook his head. "No," he stated crisply. "I can still do this, Ami. Trust me," he promised vehemently.

Ami rolled her eyes skyward as if praying for patience before meeting his gaze again. "It took you three months to get that opening at the warehouse, you're _never_ going to get close enough!" Ami exclaimed in disbelief.

He opened his mouth to reply when suddenly there was a loud 'ding' from the phone that he'd left perched on the edge of the bed. He couldn't help the way his heart began to race, or the way the blood rushed from his face as he strode across the room. His hand shook slightly when he picked up the phone.

"Mamoru?" Ami whispered hesitantly behind him. "What is it?"

The relief that swept through him when he clicked on the notification with Makoto's name was immediate. It was a text message with a time and address. He curled his fingers around the phone so tightly, it bent slightly under the pressure of his grip, before he turned to face Ami again.

"I can get close enough," he exclaimed breathlessly because the thought of seeing Usagi again, even as a cold-blooded gangster, filled him with excited anticipation. "Just don't blow my cover, please."

He could see the warring emotions that crossed Ami's face, and he hoped to God Usagi didn't get arrested, At least not before he could show her who she was again. These worlds were crafted in the worst possible ways, though, so he needed to prepare for the worst. He didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until Ami sighed and nodded in acquiescence. This was building up into one of the most complex things he'd been forced to do yet, but he held an image of Usako — _his Usako—_ firmly in his mind and willed every last bit of exhaustion, self-pity and doubt away.

Their love was strong enough to get through this, and he was ready to prove it.

oOo


	8. Chapter 5: Ruthless in Heels prt 2

**Ruthless in Heels**

 **Part 2**

He'd figured, based on what he'd witnessed in this world so far, that the address Makoto had given him would lead him somewhere isolated. He was not disappointed when he stepped onto the property of an industrial lot, secluded, and eerily quiet.

He wasn't sure where he was supposed to go. The vast array of red, steel slat shipping containers that lined the yard, pressed against tall, _inescapable,_ chain-link fences, topped with coiled barbed concertina wire, did nothing to calm his racing heart. He couldn't stop the nervous churning in the pit of his stomach as he hesitantly stepped forward, the soles of his shoes thudding against the pavement, echoing, almost deafeningly loud, throughout the silence.

He heard them approach before he saw them; two armed, broad-shouldered brutes slinking from the shadows with matching stern, hardened expressions; menacingly dangerous glints flashing from hard-set eyes. They weren't anyone he recognized, and for a moment it occurred to him that meeting here, based on a cryptically received text message, was probably a bad idea.

It was too late to turn back, though, so he froze, lifted his hands in surrender, and fixed an amused half-smirk on to his face. "Hey guys," he exclaimed lightly. "Nice place you have here."

In retrospect, his attempt at humor was in poor taste. But it was the first thing that popped into his head. Though it did nothing to alleviate the painfully fast way his heart beat nervously in his chest. Nor did it faze the men, who halted without saying a word. They easily towered over him, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

It was admittedly a tense couple of minutes while they sized him up, their gazes slightly vacant as they swept over him in, what he imagined, was an intimidating manner.

He wished, more than anything, that this world granted him the abilities of Tuxedo Kamen, and he was beginning to wonder if he should make a run for it; try texting Makoto again, when brute number one grunted sharply, gesturing with his head — _that looked to be made up of more muscle than brain—_ towards one of the red shipping containers behind him.

This did not look good, and if he didn't know that he was wading through another nightmare, he would have definitely made a different decision in this situation. As it stood, he shrugged with forced nonchalance and moved forward to follow behind brute one as he led him around the side of the container.

He could feel brute two following closely behind him. So close, in fact, that his breath was hot against the back of his neck. This was the part of the action movie where the well-meaning undercover cop was discovered and tortured to death. He was sure of it, and he bit back a slightly hysterical bark of laughter at the absurdity of it all, when they abruptly stopped.

He wished that the brutes would say something, maybe an indication to what the hell he was supposed to be doing. He only briefly glimpsed the side of a sleek black car as brute one leaned forward and slid open the door of the shipping container, the screeching sound of protesting, rusty metal ricocheting across the yard. Brute number two unexpectedly — and quite forcefully— shoved him over the threshold, then slammed the door shut behind him.

He stumbled into the hollowed storage space lit up by a flickering, half-broken bulb fixture, hanging haphazardly from the ceiling. His breath hitched in his throat, and his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, the blood draining from his face, as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting as he scanned the interior of the small space.

 _Fuck_. He was going to die here.

At least, that was what it felt like because while there were broken chairs and half opened crates filled with rubbish, what _really_ made his blood freeze in his veins was the sight of plastic. There were plastic sheets that covered every inch of the interior of the room. He could only think of one reason to cover everything in plastic, and the thought made him shudder with dread as he hesitantly took a step forward.

Would Usagi and the others be stuck in a neverending gangster loop if he died here right now? And what would happen to his consciousness? Would he wake up in the lab?

He was mulling over the morbid thoughts when the rusted door squealed again as it slid open. He swiveled around on his heels, jaw clenched, stance tightened and poised to defend himself, when _she_ stepped through the door.

Just like always, the sight of Usagi took his breath away. Even this darker, more menacing version of her; in another curve-molding black dress, impossibly high stilettos, and red painted lips. She still mesmerized him, and in that moment he internally vowed that if he ever got them out of here, he'd never take her for granted again. He'd forget every single introverted insecurity that had plagued their relationship in the past, and he'd laugh with her, communicate, and tell her how much he loved her. _Every fucking day._ For now, though, he needed to save her— _save them all—_ from this role that she was being forced to play.

It was difficult to stomach the look on her face as she gracefully stepped toward him; cold, calculating with a terrifying smirk that made him cringe. Slender fingers curled around the handle of another gun. China-blue eyes fixed onto him curiously.

Her cold smile widened as she stopped a couple of steps away, a golden brow arched as her gaze hungrily swept over him. "I can see the appeal," she practically purred, and he tensed at the un-Usagi like sound, his fingers balling up into fists. "You _are_ extraordinarily handsome." She giggled, sickly sweet, as the hand reverently palming the gun gestured around the room. "Don't be put off by the setting. See, there are only two people I trust in this world—" she began, taking another step toward him. "My brother and my best friend."

His heart began to race because there was an intensity laced into the way that the Usagi of this world spoke. Her words were edged with icy anger that terrified him.

She paused for only a second, seemingly pleased that he hadn't opted to interrupt her. "You see, I grew up with Makoto, and I've come to depend on her ability to be honest with me," Usagi's gaze narrowed shrewdly, and her lips pressed into a hard line as she searched his face. This time there was confusion etched there. "So, you can imagine my surprise to hear that Makoto is suddenly _very_ interested in saving your life."

She took another step towards him, so close that if he wanted to, he could reach out and touch her. "Make no mistake," she whispered, and he couldn't breathe because she was so damn mesmerizing. "If not for her, you would be dead already."

She leaned forward in a slow and calculated movement until her lips hovered just above his ear. Her breath was warm against the skin of his neck, and he fought back the urge to grasp her waist and bury his face in her hair. "Because, _someone_ told the cops about our last little rendezvous," she drawled quietly. "I hope, for Makoto's sake, that it wasn't you."

With a breathy, practiced laugh she stepped back again. Her eyes flashing brightly. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, suddenly feeling angry because she knew _exactly_ how she affected him. It was written into the curl of her lips, the confident, steady sway of her hips, the hard glint of satisfaction shining in her eyes.

He wanted his Usako back, and for the first time, he wasn't sure how he was going to get through to her.

He fixed his hardened gaze onto her face, searching for some kind of indication that this wasn't what she _truly_ wanted. "Nephrite," he blurted suddenly, without thinking. "The other worker in the warehouse. What happened to him?"

Her eyes widened, and her lips curled into a smug smile. "In my experience, men are fairly simple-minded, and they tend to squeal with the least amount of pressure," she explained with a pop of her lips and a snap of her fingers. It made his stomach turn violently. "I couldn't let you both live. Lucky for you, Makoto chose to vouch for you instead of him."

His heart stopped at Usagi's horrifying admission. To have made Makoto, her friend, choose between him and Nephrite… it didn't matter that gangster Usagi had no _idea_ what that would have done to her. And for the first time since this had begun, he felt a flare of anger towards her unfurl in his chest. For just a minute, he forgot to remind himself that this wasn't _her_. His Usako would have never done something so inherently atrocious to _anybody._ All he felt in that moment was a painful wistfulness, grieving for the woman he loved and, without thinking, like a blur, he closed the gap between them.

She didn't have time to react as his right hand wrapped around her gun-holding wrist, and the fingers of his left hand laced forcefully, painfully almost, into the hair at the nape of her neck. He forcibly tugged her head until her face was tilted up towards his, her eyes wide, filled with a mixture of confusion and shock as he steadily met her gaze. Their faces mere inches apart.

She sucked in a sharp breath of air, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the expression on his face or the raw intensity that sizzled between them.

He'd made many reckless decisions in their shared nightmares. This was probably one of them. It didn't matter though, because he couldn't stand to see her this way. To hear the callous atrocities forced to spill from her lips.

It felt like time stood still for a second as he peered down at her. "Is this really you?" He demanded raspily. "Do you _really_ like the person that you are?"

It was such a _dumb_ fucking thing to say to a ruthless gangster that was holding a gun pointed at his chest with her finger poised on the trigger. But, he had to _know_ that wasn't the only person he was talking to. That the bright, shining love of his life was buried under there somewhere.

It was fleeting, but for a moment, her eyes widened and there was a flash of vulnerability in the sapphire pools of her gaze. The hope that had been waning painfully in his chest unfurled and washed through him in dulcet waves of relief.

His reaction to glimpsing a piece of _his_ Usagi was instantaneous. The common sense that he _should_ have been using quickly slipped away. It was idiotic, without reasonable thought, and, _damn_ , he really couldn't afford to be making _any_ mistakes right now. Especially in this type of nightmare, where Usagi's role was _dangerous_ and _volatile_. But, he was human too, and the truth wasn't complicated. _He fucking missed her_.

One second he was peering into her eyes, and in the next, his lips were on hers. It was desperate, bruising, and hell, she could have _literally_ shot him. But before he knew it, she was kissing him back. And her movements were just as unforgiving as his were. It was nothing like the kisses he'd shared with _his_ Usako. This was harsh, angry, blissfully painful. But he could _feel_ her underneath all of that, and in an instant, he knew _exactly_ how he was going to get through to Usagi in this world.

He'd barely had time to bask in the excitement of his epiphany when her slender fingers curled into the hair at the back of his head, and with an infuriated growl, she yanked hard, forcefully pulling his face away from hers.

It stung slightly, where she'd tugged, but the flushed look on her face, and the swollen curve of her lips, even as her eyes flared with hardened rage, was worth it.

She took a graceful step back, her chest heaving like she was out of breath, and lifted the revolver in her hand. He was disappointed to see that her hand was steady; not a visible shake in sight. But he wasn't deterred. If he hadn't affected her, he'd already be dead.

Her expression was murderous as she fixed her eyes onto him. "If you ever do that again, I'll put a bullet in your brain. Without a second thought," she snarled icily, rosy lips curling over her teeth into a rage-filled sneer.

She was the terrifying gangster again, but this time, he wasn't the least bit afraid. He knew her better than she knew herself.

He bit back a smile, kept his expression appropriately contrite, and nodded mutely.

Without taking her eyes off of him, she craned her neck to the side, tilting her head back. "Kaito! Asahi!" She barked loudly, and brute one and two were instantaneously striding through the door. Usagi's cold stare slid onto him again. "You'll be staying with us for a little while, Chiba Mamoru," she began, and her tone no longer held the mocking playfulness that it had before. It was steady, dangerously quiet, almost. And it sent shivers running down his spine. "If for any reason you prove yourself to be exactly who my brother thinks you are, a filthy gutter rat with a big mouth, I'll gladly kill you. You and Makoto, both."

There wasn't time for her threat to register, because she turned on her impossibly high heels and slipped gracefully through the door.

It was only when she was gone that he exhaled deeply, releasing a strained breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

The brutes didn't say a single word as they escorted him out into the night, and into the sleek black sedan that he'd glimpsed earlier.

Brute two slid into the driver seat, and number one, in all of his oversized, lumbering glory, ducked into the back seat with him. He wasn't sure where they were going, and honestly, he didn't really care. All he knew was that he was _in_. Which meant that even though he had his work cut out for him, he was determined to get them _out._

 **oOo**

He was sure that the ensuing silence in the vehicle was some kind of method to intimidate him. Or, if the attempt at menacing sullenness on Brute one's face was any indication, at the very least, make him feel uncomfortable. If that was their intended goal, they'd failed miserably, and with a tired sigh, he laid his back against the leather headrest and closed his eyes.

He didn't realize how exhausted he was until he unwillingly drifted off to sleep. The next thing he became aware of, was a sharp jab in the ribs that instantly jolted him awake. Brute one was glaring at him, probably irritated that he'd dared to fall asleep in the first place.

He inhaled slowly, blinking the bleary remnants of his impromptu nap from his eyes, as he craned his neck sideways to peer out of the window. At some point, the sun must have risen, because it hung just above the horizon; emanating a harsh red and orange streaked glow across the early morning sky.

He didn't recognize the area, and his brows drew together into a puzzled frown as he inwardly cursed himself for having given into his exhaustion when Brute two sharply turned left. He was vaulted forward into the back of the driver's seat as the car turned down a dirt road, the wheels bouncing into the divots and potholes as Brute two drove way too fast over them. The road wound and twisted around bends, and Mamoru noted that the foliage was thickening, pressing in closer to the road that narrowed beneath a canopy of towering cherry blossom trees.

He clutched the door handle —not quickly enough, apparently— to keep from being jostled again when they hit another pothole. He sucked in a pained breath through his teeth, glaring at the back of Brute two's head as he ran his fingers over his elbow that had just connected sharply to the door, due to the brute's apparent inability to drive over rough terrain. He grasped the leather seat on either side of him in a vain attempt to steady himself as they pulled into a clearing and the car screeched to a grinding halt.

Mamoru had barely glanced out of the window, when brute one leaned over, roughly grabbed the handle of his door, and pushed it open. "Get out," he snapped, his tone low, harsh and brooding, and Mamoru resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was more than happy to be exiting the cramped confines of the car without being ordered to do so.

Wordlessly, he pulled himself out of the car, forcibly ignoring Brute one sliding out behind him, and froze. His eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat because nestled in the middle of Kyoto's famous, towering, bamboo forest, seemingly completely hidden, was a vast manor that loomed imposingly above him. It looked like a traditionally built mansion, standing tall on intricately carved posts and lintels supporting layers of gently curved roofs that extended far beyond the walls; a red-stoned, thatched roof, precise and strategically placed, covering vast wooden verandas.

It was such a strange mixture of old and modern Japanese architecture, but more importantly, it was lavish, enormous, and, by the group of armed men that he could see patrolling the property, well-protected, too.

He supposed that for a family of gun-smugglers that were, according to Ami, more dangerous than the Yakuza, this was a fitting location. He wondered where Usagi was, or if she was even here, when Brute two jabbed him sharply, _once again,_ in the back, urging him forward with an annoyed grunt.

With a sigh of irritation, Mamoru took a step forward without resistance. "You know, there's this saying," he murmured, his tone laced with annoyance. "You catch more bees with honey than with vinegar. So, words instead of grunts? Might be a good place to start." It was a muttered statement that he didn't really expect a response to. He did catch the wisp of a smirk from Brute one that was striding briskly beside him, though. Which was a small victory that Mamoru gratefully accepted.

They made their way up to a cobblestone pathway, the landscape lush and well maintained. The aroma from the cherry blossom trees almost overwhelming when they stopped in front of the house. Upon closer inspection, it was even bigger than he'd first surmised, and he was feeling a little out of his depth when the front doors slid open with a whirring slam that echoed around them.

He sighed with relief, the tenseness uncoiling from the muscles in his shoulders, at the sight of Makoto. Though she was casually dressed, her hair pinned up in her signature Jupiter ponytail, the grim look on her face was severely out of place. Her lips pressed into a hard line, her face pale, and her movements brisk, and hurried.

His stomach turned because he could tell that something had happened. _Something was horribly wrong_. And he knew it was because of how hard it was for Makoto to differentiate between who Usagi was, with what she was being forced to do.

Makoto stopped in front of them, her gaze sweeping past him and over the twin brutes as she propped her fists confidently on her hips and steadily met their gaze. "It's fine, Kaito, Asahi," she snapped, her tone harsh and commanding. "I can handle it from here."

He thought that they would protest, but they nodded respectfully and wordlessly — _no surprise there—_ twisted on their heels and disappeared. Lumbering off the pathway to join the rest of the quiet, shifty-eyed, armed men that lingered where the property's rolling, perfectly manicured lawn stopped and edged into the unimaginably tall reeds of the bamboo forest.

His breath hitched in his throat as he lifted his gaze, met Makoto's hardened eyes, and leaned forward, his movements filled with urgency. "Makoto—" he whispered desperately because he needed to know what was happening. Where were they? Was Usagi here?

The brunette promptly interrupted him with a sharp shake of her head, and a silencing look in her eyes. "Not here," she replied brusquely, and curled slender fingers around his wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. "Come on."

She tugged him forward, her movements just as brisk and hurried as the sharp tone that seemed to be etched into her voice. He watched her from the corner of his eye as they walked, studying the hardened edges of her profile and noting suddenly that she had a gun holstered to her hip.

He grimaced, "A gun?" he murmured, brow raised in disbelief.

The glance that she shot him over her shoulder made his heart clench painfully in his chest. Her lips curled up into a miserable smile, and the shine that was prevalent in all of the Senshi's eyes, dulled and tinged with sadness that he didn't want to understand. "Everyone has a gun in this place, Mamoru," she replied brokenly, her tone harsh and condemning. "I'm glad she didn't use her's on you."

He didn't respond, and by the way that Makoto pulled him through the door, gaze fixed firmly ahead, she didn't really expect him too.

The interior of the mansion was more modern looking than the exterior. Sleek fixtures, polished floors all bathed in the sunlight that poured in from floor to ceiling windows, probably double-paned and bulletproof by the look of them. Surprisingly, it wasn't empty; men with guns, women in cleaning uniforms, coming and going, as they swept by them without saying a word.

It was only when they made it to the bottom of a grand staircase, and a small blonde scurried by them, that he realized that they were all looking at Makoto with fear; their gazes all respectfully averted, flashing with terrified deference. His brow furrowed into a contemplative frown. Makoto was entrenched more deeply into this then they'd previously assumed.

It was apparent to him by the hard, unyielding way in which Makoto held herself as he followed her up the staircase, her jaw clenched tightly, her fingers curled into fists, that Makoto was very aware of the role that she'd been forced to play in this nightmare.

It was the epitome of cruel to have placed Makoto in this role. The tough, unyielding fighter whom everyone scurried away from in fear. He knew that this had been one of her biggest insecurities before Usagi had met her and pulled her into the bright, shining light of her love. So, to have _Usagi,_ the bubbly, sweet savior that had drawn them all together, be the very reason that Makoto was looked at this way here… It was fucking cruel, and it filled him with rage. The monsters had upped their game.

He was getting worked up, the pain and anguish bubbling in his chest as they made their way through a maze of halls, passing door after door, until Makoto stopped abruptly in front of one, leaned forward, opened it, and promptly pulled him over the threshold.

The room was dark until Makoto flicked a switch and it lit up brightly. It was a small, plain room with white painted walls; completely bare, except for a thickly laid tatami floor mat on one side of the bedroom, and a small dresser, with bamboo inlay, on the other.

He glanced over at Makoto, who'd stopped, her eyes narrowed as she carefully scrutinized the room.

He frowned, thoroughly puzzled, and took a step towards her. "Makoto—"

She swirled towards him, eyes wide, and pressed an index finger to her lips, promptly silencing him again. He snapped his mouth shut, tilting his head in confusion as Makoto strode towards the far end of the room, knelt down, and carefully ran her fingers along the baseboard. He shook his head, his brow furrowed, when she stopped suddenly, pried a piece back and carefully lifted a small mechanical device from behind it.

It dawned on him then, and he grimaced as he watched her. With a grim expression, she pressed it into her palm, fiddling with it until he heard a tiny 'click' that indicated that she'd either broken it or managed to turn it off.

He watched as the tension melted away from her posture, and the stiffened set of her shoulders slumped as if all of the gumption had been swept out of her. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her lower lip trembled as she stared miserably down at the device in her palm.

"From now on," she whispered brokenly, curling her fingers around it, "assume that every single room in this house is bugged."

He was at a loss for words, unable to speak because he'd never witnessed her like this before. His breath caught in his throat, and the blood drained from his face as she tilted her head up, and her haunted gaze met his.

"Mamoru," she began, "I hope you have a plan, because… Because…" She choked on the words, and the sob that bubbled up in her throat was painfully raw, and it snapped him out of his confused daze.

With a shaky breath of shared pain, he leaned forward and pulled the brunette into his arms. She buried her head in her hands, her sobs muffled by her palms that were pressed to her lips. His arms shook too because this was more than a nightmare. It was the first time one of the Senshi who'd managed to stay awake had been affected so severely, and it broke his heart all over again.

It took several minutes before Makoto managed to control her emotions, and she was quick to pull away, furiously swiping at the remnants of the tears on her flushed cheeks. When she met his gaze again, she seemed to have rediscovered her strength.

She took a deep, steadying breath. "Look, I don't know how you're going to do this," she began, and he was relieved that her voice held more of that Jupiter confidence that he was used to. "That person that should be Usagi is a monster, Mamoru." Her words weren't unexpected, given what she'd probably seen here, but that was still _his_ Usako. And, whatever she'd done, was not her fault. "I don't know how you plan on prying a confession of love from her. She doesn't love anybody. She's cold, dark, practically ev—"

This time Mamoru interrupted her, "Enough," he snapped angrily, his expression darkening with an angry scowl. "I'm going to need you to stop right there, Makoto," he demanded, and Makoto pressed her lips together, her eyes flashing with pained anger that he needed to fix _right now._ "What did I tell you before you left the motel?"

She said nothing, her jaw clenched tightly, her fists pressed into her sides, her eyes flashing stubbornly.

He shook his head sharply, frustrated because he needed Makoto on his side right now. He needed her to understand. "Everything that's happening here isn't real," he whispered harshly. "And everything that Usagi has done would kill her. It's probably _killing_ her, Makoto. None of this," he gestured angrily with his hands, "is her fault. It's our job to save her."

Her expression softened, her eyes glossing over, as she miserably mulled over his words.

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "Makoto, I don't know what happened with Nephrite," he murmured, and his heart twisted when she flinched, "but, I promise you that Usagi is in there. Please," he pleaded hoarsely. "I need your help."

It was another minute as he watched an array of expressions cross over the delicate features of her face. He could have wept with relief when the determined resolve that he recognized as the Senshi of Jupiter etched, finally, into her facial expression.

She took a deep, cleansing breath, and nodded. "Right," she replied, and the despondency that had been so clearly laced into her tone was gone now. "I'm sorry. Of course she's in there. God," she swallowed painfully. "Mamoru. We need to get out of here. I want her back."

He nodded in agreement, feeling the determined resolve building in him as well. "We will," he stated resolutely. "Tell me what you know."

Makoto promptly began to relay the inner workings of the Tsukino family, and it was difficult not to weep, or howl with rage, with every horrifying detail that she'd learned since coming back to the house after the failed sting operation. The Tsukino's were dangerous, terrifyingly so, and they led a veritable army of armed thugs with iron fists. Little to no room for mercy.

They were not only gun smugglers, but they were also embezzlers; an intricate web of well-paid politicians, police officers, and Yakuza families in their back pockets. They were practically untouchable, and anyone who had dared an attempt to expose them wound up either missing or found dead. The fact that _he_ was still breathing was only as a favor that Usagi did not usually grant, for Makoto.

He was on thin ice, though, and the only reason he'd been pulled into the mansion where Usagi, Kunzite and their endless army of thugs resided, was so that they could keep a close eye on him.

Makoto's expression was grim when she finished. "Don't slip up, Mamoru," she pleaded. "Kunzite is unstable and fiercely protective of Usagi. He'll kill you without blinking. It's hard to watch." She grimaced, lost in her thoughts, and he grit his teeth. He was well acquainted with Kunzite's possessiveness, and he wondered why, once again, the monsters had forced him into that type of role.

Makoto took a deep breath, stepped towards him, and grasped his hand. "Mamoru, you've done this before, right? We're going to get her out of here?"

He peered down into her pleading expression, his throat constricted with emotion, and nodded; hoping that his expression conveyed confidence that he wasn't entirely sure he felt.

He must have reassured her because she exhaled with relief, and the corners of her lips quirked up into a small, grateful smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of the bedroom door swinging open, the movement eliciting a gust of air, startled them.

Makoto sucked in a sharp intake of breath, her face whitening even more, as she pulled her hand away from his arm as if he'd burned her. He swiveled around, muscles tense, and bit back a gasp at the sight of Usagi leaning casually against the door jamb.

Like always, she knocked the breath from his lungs, and his gaze swept up the length of her. From her high-heeled clad feet, up to the bared, creamy-white expanse of smooth, endlessly long legs, to her arms crossed casually across the tightly cinched dress covering her midsection. The loose, glossy blonde locks of her hair tumbled over her shoulder that was pressed up against the door frame, a mocking smirk curled up on ample, red lips.

She chuckled, arching a blonde brow in amusement as her eyes flicked back and forth between him and Makoto. "Oh, don't let me interrupt," she chimed brightly, but Mamoru knew Usagi well enough, even like this, to catch the hard glint of jealousy that flashed briefly in her eyes. "I knew there was a reason you wanted me to spare him, Mako-chan," she said in a forced airy tone as she gracefully pushed away from the door, and took a slow, calculated step into the room.

He could hear Makoto's breathing quicken in panic beside him, and the brunette stepped forward, hands raised in supplication. "Usa, I'm sorry. I just—"

Usagi sharply raised her hand, effectively silencing her with a flick of her wrist. "Oh, Mako-chan," she practically purred, a sly smile curled onto her lips. "Don't apologize. I can definitely see the appeal," she drawled, before closing the gap between them. His breath was stuck in his throat, once again, as she slowly ran her index finger up his chest, along the length of his jaw, before swiping it across his lips. "He's an _excellent_ kisser," she murmured, her malicious gaze sliding onto Makoto's stunned face.

 _Fuck._ Usagi had mistakenly assumed that Makoto had pleaded for his life on a romantic inclination, and, _damn_ , she was trying to hurt her because of it. If Usagi was conscious inside of the cold shell that she was being forced to play, she was probably screaming in agony right now, and that realization pissed him off enough that his expression darkened and, without thinking, he firmly grabbed her hand that had settled against his chest and shoved it away.

"Don't," he practically snarled. "Cruelty isn't an attractive quality."

He heard Makoto groan in dismay beside him, but there was a flash of something in Usagi's eyes. Another momentary glimpse of vulnerability that was _his_ Usako, and he exhaled with relief; reassured that she was still there.

Usagi swallowed angrily and took a step back, barely regaining control of her emotions before the mask of faux-impassiveness fell back into place. "Your loss, Chiba," she hissed, shooting Makoto a seething glare. "Better get some rest. I want you to join me tomorrow for a little visit, Chiba. So we can see if you're worth keeping around," she sneered before twisting on her heel.

Before she left the room, though, she stopped, casually tossing her hair over her shoulder before coldly meeting Makoto's gaze. "Oh, Mako-chan," she chimed. "The next time you disable a bug because you want to fuck one of our guests, run it by me first, okay?"

They didn't have time to respond, and his stomach churned violently at her words before she disappeared into the hall. Slamming the door shut behind her.

 **oOo**

He'd barely slept the night before, his eyes opened and fixed onto the foreign shapes outlined in the darkness of the room that he'd been assigned to. His thoughts raced with colliding visions of Usagi. One of her bright-eyed and laughing, playfully twirling around in front of him, and the next one a horrifying mixture of all the roles that she'd been forced to play.

He'd never wanted to save her so badly as he did now, and after she'd left the room last night, he'd made a determined vow with Makoto. They were going to end this game by _any_ means necessary.

He'd finally drifted off to sleep in the hazy, early hours of the morning, and it felt like he'd just closed his eyes, when he was awoken, once again, by a painfully sharp jab in his side. He opened his eyes and blinked with irritation up into Brute one's face. His permanently fixed scowl glared down at him, the tip of his shoe still perched at the edge of the tatami mat indicating that the _jerk_ had _kicked_ him.

Mamoru sighed loudly, raking his palm across his eyes in an attempt to clear the bleary remnants of sleep from his vision. "I thought we talked about this," he snapped with exasperation. "Remember? Honey? Vinegar? The crazy _idea_ that you can use words rather than continuously _jabbing_ me in the side?"

The brute said nothing — _shocker—_ and Mamoru propped himself up onto his elbows as he slowly pulled his body up into a sitting position. The sunlight was pouring in through the window, its rays weaving through the reeds of the forest outside before piercing through the window pane and bathing the room in dusky oranges. It had barely risen, and he sighed, shaking his head to forcibly clear it of exhaustion as the brute took a step back.

The hulking figure was pretty intimidating, and Mamoru was definitely at a disadvantage; prone figure on the tatami mat at his feet, bared torso, the thin sheet he'd been provided tangled around his waist.

He didn't feel an inkling of fear, though, and that was probably why he couldn't help the irritation from etching onto his face as he raised an eyebrow questioningly and fixed his gaze onto the man. "Well?" He questioned sharply. "What do you want… what was your name again? Are you Asahi, or Kaito? Because I'm going to be really honest here. Right now, I refer to you as brute one in my head."

At this point, he was pretty sure he was talking to a wall, so he was startled when Brute one's lips quirked up into an amused grin. "Asahi," he replied simply, his tone tinged with laughter. "You're pretty mouthy for a Shatei," he mused, and Mamoru barely held back a frown at the title. "Kumicho Tsukino wants to see you."

He didn't know much about Yakuza, though, as Tuxedo Kamen, he'd run into the occasional non-supernatural criminal. So, the titles that Asahi had uttered, he knew, had something to do with a mafia family hierarchy.

He couldn't help the way his heart began to race in his chest, a mixture of dread and anticipation. He'd managed to get Usagi's attention. Now he just needed to break through this bone-chilling barrier to save her, and he was anxious to start doing that, _now_.

He was quick to rise after that, and Asahi allowed him enough time to use the facilities as well as dress into a fresh, surprisingly well-fitted, outfit that had magically appeared on his dresser. Though, if he had to venture a guess, it was probably courtesy of one of the many uniformed women that he'd witnessed flitting about the mansion with terror imprinted onto their carefully averted gazes.

He had more time to study the interior of the house as he let Asahi guide him, and he was torn between awe, marveling at the sheer beauty and elegance of every fixture in this place, and feeling appalled, because the money to fund this type of build had probably been procured in an unsavory manner.

They were joined shortly by Brute two, or Kaito, as they slipped through double wide cedarwood doors that were etched with intricate, extremely detailed scenes of burning dragons. He had to forcibly pull his eyes away from the beautiful designs as they stepped into a large, brightly lit room that housed an extravagantly long dining room table.

He halted, sandwiched between Kaito and Asahi, forcibly keeping his expression neutral as his gaze locked onto Usagi who was seated at the end of the table; a vast array of fruit and pastries spread out in front of her. Today, she was dressed in a form-fitting, V-necked, white dress with an elegant flower-patterned lace overlay. She looked every bit the picture of refined elegance and purity, and it almost brought him to his knees. Because it reminded him of his Serenity, minus the odangoed hairstyle that he solely associated with her. Instead, her hair was swept back into an equally elegant hairstyle that took his breath away.

She hadn't noticed them yet, as she was currently arguing with a stout, pale-faced man, whose lips were pursed in open disapproval. "Kumicho Tsukino, I truly mean no disrespect, but as your Saiko-komon, it is my duty to advise you in these matters. Would it not be more prudent to wait for Oyabun Tsukino to accompany you?"

Mamoru's brow furrowed into a curious frown as he watched Usagi crane her neck to the side, a slow, dangerous smile curled onto her lips as her shrewd gaze coolly perused the advisor beside her. "My brother is currently indisposed," she enunciated slowly, her eyes flashing angrily. The advisors face paled even more, and he visibly gulped. "He's probably tangled up with his new, blonde-haired, plaything," she added, then her lips widened into a terrifying smile as she arched a blonde brow. "You can, however, be the one to interrupt him," she offered, the tone of her voice and the sharp inhale from the man beside her as he practically shuddered at the thought, was a clear indication that this was not in his best interest.

The advisor cleared his throat and vehemently shook his head. "No, of course not, Kumicho Tsukino," he stuttered, and it irritated Mamoru to see the look on Usagi's face. She was so clearly relishing in the man's discomfort. "I only meant that perhaps you might wait until…"

Usagi had apparently reached the limit of her patience because her expression darkened, and she promptly interrupted him. "Enough," she bellowed harshly, and everyone in the room shuddered. Which, to Mamoru, was ridiculous. This was still his _Usako._ The sweet, beautiful girl that had wept when he'd accidentally hit a squirrel with his car. He couldn't wait to dig _that_ girl out of _Kumicho Tsukino_. "I am perfectly capable of handling a business transaction with a minor, insignificant member of a barely prominent Yakuza family, Hinata. Don't question me again," she commanded angrily, and Hinata conceded, bowing respectfully before taking a step back to stand amidst a line of hard-eyed men.

Usagi straightened, her fierce expression melting into a satisfied one as her gaze finally swept over them. He noted that the china-blue of her eyes lingered for a moment on his face and he wished, more than anything, that he could glimpse _his_ Usagi again.

She perched her elbows on the edge of the table, daintily propping her chin in her palms, "Besides," she mused brightly, "I'll have these three brooding men to protect me. Won't I, Asahi, Kaito..." her gaze flicked from each one of them before stopping on him. "Mamoru?"

The way she whispered his name, purposefully soft and enticing, made his heart flutter and it was difficult to keep his expression neutral and stand still in front of her when all he wanted to do was shake her until she remembered, then pull her into his arms, and bury his face in her hair.

He barely managed a nod of affirmation with the others, when Usagi sat up, her smile widening as she gestured to the spread of food in front of her. "Good, now eat," she commanded imperiously. "When we've finished breakfast, we can go."

Usagi leaned back in her chair, a self-satisfied smirk on her lips as he followed suit with Asahi, Kaito and a few of the other men that gratefully moved forward to pick at the food on the table.

He absentmindedly picked up an apple, his eyes locked firmly onto Usagi who was also watching him. Her eyes were bright, flashing with curiosity as she boldly let her gaze sweep over him.

He thought, for just a second, that this may not be as impossible as he'd assumed when Hinata stepped forward to take a castella cake off of the table. Usagi's gaze immediately snapped back onto the advisor. "Not you," she hissed icily, and Hinata's eyes widened fearfully as a cold smile slid vengefully onto her lips. "In fact, I don't want to see you eat for… hmm…" she pursed her lips, gazing upwards in contrived contemplation. "Four days," she whispered coldly, and he had to hold back the appalled look that threatened to wash over his face. Because surely, she wasn't serious.

She was though, and the silence that fell over the room was an indication that everyone knew it, including Hinata who visibly swallowed back his terror. "Four is the number of times that you dared to question me this morning, and four is the number of days that you will not consume a single ounce of sustenance."

Usagi waved her wrist, dismissing Hinata before daintily plucking a strawberry off of the table, sighing with pleasure as she bit into it.

Hinata nodded slowly, his eyes downcast as he stepped away from the table. "Yes, Kumicho Tsukino," he whispered miserably, his voice trembling. "My apologies."

Mamoru let the apple fall back onto the table with a dull thud, unable to stomach the cruelty, and, just like it had probably done to Makoto after witnessing her like this, the hope began to wane painfully in the cavity of his chest.

That was until Usagi's eyes met his.

He didn't shy away from her gaze, and he didn't hide the contempt for what she'd just done, either. The flame of hope roared back to life at the way her satisfied smirk faded from her lips, as her eyes narrowed in confusion, and then, suddenly, _there it was_ ; a flash of self-hatred, and a glint of remorse.

 **oOo**

There was a thick mist that hung in the air, and ominous gray clouds gathered in the sky above them when the sleek black sedan that he'd been forced into yesterday pulled onto yet another isolated, winding dirt road that was roughly an hour away from the Tsukino's hidden manor.

The time he spent in the black car this time was admittedly much more enjoyable than the day before. Instead of being wedged between the door and the sullen-faced brute that spent most of the drive glaring miserably ahead, he was comfortably nestled beside the blonde-haired, ruthless gangster, who still smelled like lavender and vanilla. It was overwhelming, and he wished, more than anything, he could pull her into his arms and forget all about what was currently happening.

He forcibly ignored the unbidden impulse though, as silence settled thickly in the car between them.

There seemed to be an unspoken understanding that you were not to speak to Kumicho Tsukino unless she deigned to talk to you. The brutes that were both seated in the front of the vehicle, Asahi in the driver's seat this time, _never_ made direct eye contact with Usagi.

It was something he'd noted was common with every underling they'd encountered as she'd swept out of the mansion, chin tilted up haughtily, as she gracefully maneuvered impossibly high, white-heeled stilettos as they'd trailed behind her.

He knew that it was important that he _tried_ to appear subservient. Usagi, the one in this world, anyway, was incredibly dangerous, but he found that he was not able to abide by the same rules as the others, and it was practically impossible to keep his gaze from lingering on the bared, slender legs delicately crossed in the back seat of the car. Or, the exposed slight curve of her neck as it bent forward, her eyes glued to her phone perched delicately in her hand.

She'd caught him staring more than once in that hour, and he was sure that if it had been anyone else, she'd have already threatened him with the gun that she always carried with her. The one that he'd watched her strap to her thigh beneath the billowing folds of her lacy, white dress as she peered at him seductively over her shoulder. As it stood, she seemed thrilled by every lingering look he couldn't help, and her smirk widened smugly, her eyes smoldering with a promise that made his heart skip a beat, despite himself.

He made a concerted effort not to look at her after that, and instead fixed his gaze on the passing scenery outside of his car window.

The Usagi in this world was used to getting what she wanted, and he'd seen enough to know that she liked the attention. He didn't intend to give in to her that way, because the only time he'd managed to catch a glimpse of his Usako was when he'd dared to defy her.

The manor that they pulled up to this time was considerably smaller than the one that the Tsukino's owned. Though, he noted that this one was just as well protected, with one pronounced difference. The men that they drove past were not armed; not with guns, anyway. This was not a surprise to him, because as far as he knew, even the Yakuza did not handle firearms, preferring other means of protection instead.

He knew that this made the Tsukino's a dangerously rare exception and, not for the first time on the drive over, he wondered what the hell they were walking into today.

When Asahi smoothly pulled the car into park, Kaito was quick to exit the vehicle and open the door for Usagi, who imperiously held her hand out, uncrossed her legs and carefully slid out of the car onto a well-maintained pavilion.

Asahi spared him only a brief glance before he slid out of the car and jerked his head in a beckoning gesture, which Mamoru understood to be a silent command to follow suit.

He pressed his lips into a hard line, a feeling of dread uncoiling in the pit of his stomach as he moved to stand beside Usagi. Something didn't _feel_ right. Though, he wasn't sure if it was because something awful was about to happen, or if he was just generally uncomfortable with the unsavory nature of this visit. Whatever it was, Usagi appeared unfazed as she stood, a look of irritation etched onto her face, arms crossed as she impatiently tapped one of her high-heeled shoes.

Asahi and Kaito also seemed unconcerned; though, honestly, it was hard to tell because the brutes always seemed tense and ready to fight.

Finally, the more traditional, paper-thin doors that were more common in this type of structure, soundlessly slid open and his breath hitched in his throat because he recognized the man that stepped out onto the veranda and peered coldly down at them. It was Jadeite. The short, sandy mop of blonde hair was slicked back, dressed just as suavely as Kunzite had been, his shoulders squared, and a smirk curled onto his lips.

He felt Usagi stiffen beside him, and he risked a furtive sideways glance at her. Her expression darkened, her lips pursed with irritation as she glared up at him.

Jadeite's smirk only widened at her petulant expression. "Sorry to have kept you waiting, Usagi-san," he apologized politely, though his tone was clearly contrived.

It was very clear to Mamoru that Jadeite despised Usagi, and he couldn't help the way his heart quickened nervously, and every protective instinct inside of him was screaming in protest; begging him to shield her from Jadeite's venomous stare.

He shook his head sharply to clear it. That was ridiculous, of course. The Usagi of this world was perfectly capable of protecting herself.

The mist around them seemed to thicken, and a light drizzle settled over them like the sky was threatening to begin raining in earnest when an icy smile that perfectly mirrored Jadeite's curled onto her lips. "Oh, it wasn't too long at all, Jed," she purred, and the forced mask of polite welcome fell momentarily from his face as his eyes glinted with a brief flash of fury. "Aren't you going to invite us in? This was, after all, your idea."

Mamoru's trepidation only heightened as six tattooed, clearly trained members of the Yakuza family filtered out onto the veranda behind Jadeite.

Jadeite nodded in response; his smile so obviously filled with hatred. "Of course," he murmured apologetically, bowing respectively. "I will, of course, ask that you hand over your cellular devices and any firearms that you might have on your person to the gentleman over here," he demanded, gesturing towards the men that had just poured out behind him.

Mamoru swallowed nervously, because he hated a gun just as much as the next person, but without that clear defining weapon that gave them the slight upper hand, their small group would clearly be at a horrible disadvantage. _Couldn't Usagi tell that they were in danger?_

Apparently, she couldn't. Or, she was too damn arrogant. Either way, he practically growled out in protest when she nodded in acquiescence, leaned over, and inched the bottom seam of her dress up slowly to pull the gun from her thigh. He was sure he could hear the furious panic-induced pounding of his heart in his ears when two of the tattooed men stepped forward to divest them of their only means of protection, as well as communication. _What the fuck?_

Asahi and Kaito had complied just as quickly as Usagi, and he was at a loss for words when one of the men stopped just in front of him. His expression was as sour as the smell on his breath. "Gun, phone," he demanded frostily.

Mamoru shook his head, "I have neither," he snapped back, still in disbelief, and the man growled with irritation. Roughly running his hands along the length of him, briskly frisking him. Mamoru instinctively shoved him away. "I already told you, I don't have anything!"

The man reared up, his eyes flashing menacingly when Usagi interrupted, brightly chiming in. "He's not armed," she supplied, her eyes flicking over to Jadeite. "He's one of our more… simple Shatei's."

He wasn't able to stop himself from rolling his eyes, but, surprisingly, Jadeite nodded curtly, and bad-breath backed off.

"I'm sure you understand what would happen if you were to lie to me, Usagi-san," Jadeite threatened and, despite the awful person that Usagi was in this nightmare, his hands clenched into angry fists as he stepped forward protectively.

It didn't go unnoticed by Usagi who frowned in confusion before she shook her head and refocused her attention on Jadeite. "And I'm sure you know _exactly_ what would happen if something were to happen to us here."

Something flashed through the green irises of Jadeites eyes, then, and Mamoru couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it did not reassure him.

The general nodded curtly, twisted on his heel and gestured them forwards, inviting them to follow him into the manor.

His vision blurred, his breath quickening, because, hell, this wasn't right. Though he hadn't been granted the abilities of Tuxedo Kamen's transformation here, he knew, with every fiber of his being, that his instincts were never wrong. Usagi was in danger, and there was no _way_ he could let her walk into that house.

Which was why his arm shot out, blocking her way when she stepped forward to follow. "Something's wrong," he whispered, his tone raspy and filled with panic. "You can't walk into that house unarmed, Usako."

He was so focused on the potential danger, that the term of endearment just slipped from his lips. Her eyes widened, glistening with confusion, and if she really _had_ been only the cold-hearted gangster that enjoyed death and pain, she probably would have sneered at him mockingly.

Instead, she tilted her head to the side, her brow furrowed as she gently laid her hand on his arm, perfectly manicured fingers curling gently around his wrist. "Mamoru," she murmured softly. "This is normal. It's a formality. I promise you that if a member of the Yakuza family even _thought_ about harming me, or the people under my protection, my brother would destroy them."

It was evident by the simultaneous looks of startled confusion on Asahi and Kaitos faces that Usagi did not make it a habit to explain her actions to anyone, let alone a lowly underling. She must have realized her mistake, too, because her eyes narrowed angrily and her face reddened with embarrassment.

She angrily shoved his arm away, "Get back in line, Chiba," she practically hissed under her breath before she smoothed out her dress, cleared her throat, and collected herself before taking a confident step forward.

He bit back an exasperated sigh and ignored the sideways glances from the Brutes that were seemingly impressed, and perhaps slightly suspicious now, as he was forced to follow behind them. The hairs rose on the back of his neck in alarm as they stepped over the threshold onto the tatami mat covered floor.

Jadeite's family apparently opted to live _very_ traditionally, and they all removed their shoes. Usagi was now several inches shorter without the impractical heels as they pressed onward into the house.

He fought the urge to pull her into his arms as a measure of safety when they stepped into, what appeared to be, a modestly sized tea room. Red pine supporting pillars and lintels opposite a small alcove, a simple hanging scroll pinned to the wall beside a lone, partially opened window.

Jadeite gestured to a tea mat, inviting Usagi to sit, and he couldn't help the panic coursing through him as she complied, gracefully lowering herself onto the mat, curling her legs beneath her and primly adjusting her dress on her lap.

She appeared completely unconcerned, as her fingers fiddled with a seam on her dress, but he couldn't help but scan the occupants of the room.

It didn't go unnoticed by him the way that the men who'd confiscated their weapons were now suddenly blocking their only exit, and he stepped closer to Usagi, his heart pounding as his eyes narrowed onto Jadeite's face that bore the same hardened expression he'd worn for a brief moment outside.

He knew that he was right when Jadeites lips curled into a hatred-filled smile of victory as he held his hand out to his men. _Fuck._ This was bad.

The only other way to leave this room was through that window, and he'd have to shatter it to break through.

Bad breaths smile matched Jadeites as he stepped forward and reverently handed him Usagi's gun. Asahi and Kaito must have figured it out at the same time as he had because they rushed toward Jadeite even as he closed the gap between him and Usagi.

Usagi was still confused, and she shot him an annoyed glare over her shoulder, as Jadeite lifted the revolver, finger poised on the trigger, and pointed the barrel at Asahi and Kaito who both stopped in their tracks.

Usagi inhaled sharply, her shoulders stiffening, her expression murderous when she _finally_ realized what was happening. "Jadeite," she hissed in disbelief. "What are you doing?"

Jadeite's gaze flicked from the brute, frozen in place, onto Usagi, and he chuckled darkly, his expression practically manic. "What does it look like, oh holy spawn of the Tsukino family," he snapped, his tone dripping with an ice-cold venom.

Mamoru's adrenaline was picking up now, as his eyes frantically scanned the room. There was no way they were going to get through the line of men at the door… they might be able to manage a fight, based on the twin brutes' sheer size, but not with Jadeite holding Usagi's gun.

Usagi was still sitting on the tatami mat on the floor, frozen in disbelief, "Are you crazy?" she demanded. "Jadeite, if you do this, you're going to _die._ "

He wasn't sure what he expected his former general to say. Maybe laugh callously and reveal his diabolical plan to escape like the villain in every terrible superhero movie, but Jadeite _wasn't_ the villain in this game. Usagi was. And it was evident by the determined, thoroughly _resigned_ look on Jadeite's face that he was well aware of that fact. More than that, he'd accepted his fate.

Usagi must have seen it too, because she slowly shook her head, even as Jadeite twisted and trained the gun down at her, the barrel aimed directly at her heart. "Why?" she demanded, and the desperation in her voice terrified him.

Jadeite's laugh echoed around them, and it was tinged with a dangerously desperate hysteria. This wasn't business for him; it was personal. "Because you killed her," he whispered hoarsely, his eyes glistening with anguish. "She didn't do anything wrong. She was _good."_ His voice broke with emotion, and Mamoru swallowed around the lump of pain in his throat. He didn't want to hear this. "She was a Shinto priestess, and all she did was happen to be standing in the wrong fucking place at the wrong time."

Mamoru clenched his eyes shut for a moment, wracked with pain because he was torn between anguish for his former friend and Usagi, who was _still_ everything to him, despite everything she'd done. He inhaled sharply with a sudden realization. There was a reason that the monsters had placed them in these specific roles. They wanted him to turn on Usagi. _Why?_

Usagi had yet to respond, and it infuriated Jadeite even more. "God," he gasped on a ragged breath. "You cold, heartless bitch. You don't even know who I'm talking about."

It was evident by the way Usagi pressed her lips together tightly, her eyes flashing up at Jadeite belligerently, that she, in fact, did _not_ know what Jadeite was talking about.

Jadeite stepped forward, too close, and Asahi and Kaito moved closer to Usagi protectively. The general stopped, as he flicked his eyes onto the twin brutes, the fire in his gaze cooling into a look of calm contemplation. "You three," he began, and his tone had steadied. "You don't have to die for her." Mamoru frowned because Jadeite's eyes had briefly scanned over him, too. "I'll let all three of you leave. I don't have any issues with any of you, and nobody else should die because of _her,"_ he sneered angrily, gesturing towards the men at the door with a nod of his head. They parted, leaving an opening that would allow them to walk out of this room.

Mamoru's posture stiffened angrily, because, _fuck the monsters that had put them here._ He'd _never_ give up on Usagi, no matter how many twisted, horrible things they forced her to do. He'd languish here, live with her as a hardened criminal, before he'd ever leave her.

Asahi and Kaito, though, had no such qualms, and he heard Usagi's sharp intake of breath as the brutes exchanged a quick look and nodded. They were going to accept Jadeite's offer.

Usagi fell forward angrily, her palms pressing into the mat, blonde hair tumbling over her shoulder as she glared up at them. " _Bastards,"_ she hissed because she'd seen the look they'd exchanged too.

Jadeite chortled as, without a look backward, the brutes slipped away, fleeing from the room. His former general's eyes fell onto him, and he raised an eyebrow in question.

Usagi's head fell forward with a whimper, her shoulders trembling, and Mamoru knew it was because she'd wrongly assumed that he would leave, too.

Mamoru held Jadeite's gaze for a second longer before he swiftly knelt down, grasped Usagi around the waist and hauled her to her feet. She gasped, startled and bewildered as he stepped in front of her small, shuddering form; shielding her from Jadeite's pointed gun.

Jadeite's face fell with disappointment, and his eyes filled with regret. "Are you sure this is what you want?" He questioned softly. "I don't really want to kill you, but I will if you don't leave right now," he promised, but Mamoru didn't falter. It wouldn't be the first time he'd died for Usagi.

He didn't say a word, only took another step backward. He felt Usagi's hands clutch at the fabric at the back of his shirt.

Jadeite sighed miserably, "You know that she's a monster, right? It's not worth it. Walk away," he pleaded as he cocked the gun.

He only had seconds now to figure out how he was going to get them out of this. A glint of sunshine on the pane of the partially opened window just behind Jadeite caught his eye, and he knew what he was going to do. It was stupid, and it might not work. He had no idea what the hell was on the other side of that window, and, if it did work, it was going to hurt like hell.

Either way, he was going to die if he just stood here, anyway. So, he took a deep breath in preparation and met Jadeites eyes with a determined look of his own. "She's worth it," he exclaimed with conviction, and in one swift movement, he twisted around to face Usagi, whose eyes were wide and filled with terror, wrapped one arm around her waist as the other one pressed along her back, his hand tucking her head beneath his chin as he propelled them backward.

Just like he'd hoped, it caught Jadeite off guard as they collided into him, and he was _extremely_ grateful that he hadn't accidentally fired his gun as he clutched onto Usagi more tightly, and thrust his shoulder into the window.

Several things could have happened. There was a possibility that the window pane was too thick and, like an idiot, he could have hit it with a dull thud only managing to knock himself out. Luckily, though, this whole thing was exactly like a stupid action movie. Just like he'd _hoped_ the glass shattered and he clenched his eyes shut, sucked in a breath of air as he curled around Usagi in an attempt to protect her from the shards of glass he could feel cutting into the skin of his arms and the back of his neck.

The fall from the window, thankfully, was not a high one, though it knocked the wind out of him and sent stars dancing at the edges of his blurred vision when his back hit the dirt ground with a dull, aching thud. Usagi's full body weight landed on top of him, pressing the air from his lungs.

He groaned, craning his neck sideways where he noted that the house happened to sit on the edge of a sprawling hillside that dipped low, sloping steeply into the dense, thick foliage of wild camellias and bamboo fronds below. The sound of gunshots ringing above him, and the sharply uttered expletives from Jadeite and his men snapped him out of his pained daze, and without a second thought, he curled his arms around Usagi, took a deep breath, dug his heels into the ground and propelled them sideways, forcibly rolling them over the edge.

They were a mass of tangled limbs, blonde hair and mutual groans of pain as they twisted, bumped and flailed down the rough terrain. When they finally stopped rolling, he grunted as he fell onto his back with a final jarring thump. Usagi's elbow connected painfully in his ribs, and he bit his tongue as the crown of her head smashed into the bottom of his chin as she landed, with a whimpered moan, squarely on top of him.

He took a moment to catch his breath, their breathing labored, chests heaving, his whole body aching, though it was dulled from the adrenaline that still coursed through his veins. He didn't have much time to take stock of his or Usagi's injuries though, because the muffled shouts from where they'd just fallen indicated that they were being pursued, and if they didn't get out of there, they were going to lose their head start.

With another burst of adrenaline and strength, he turned them onto their sides, then vaulted onto his feet, pulling Usagi up with him. He heard her sharp intake of ragged breath that hissed through her teeth at the movement, and for a second, he swayed dizzily, too.

His eyes met hers and, dear god, she was a hot mess. She definitely looked the way he felt, her hair a tangled mass falling over her shoulders, half of it still clumped into the clip at the nape of her neck, curled tendrils sticking to her face that was cut in several places, the shadow of a bruise visible on her left cheekbone. Her dress, previously a pristine white masterpiece, was torn, dirty, blood and dirt smeared on the skirt.

What really made his breath catch in his throat, though, was the wide, doe-eyed look of vulnerability glistening in her eyes. "Come on," he whispered hoarsely, grasped her wrist and pulled her into the snarled, thickening branches of cypress trees.

He wasn't sure how long they ran, his fingers curled around her wrist, as he tugged, yanked and maneuvered her through what seemed to be a never-ending maze of widening boughed pines, thickening shrubbery and a vast, and endless forest of maple and pine trees.

They were both barefoot, and the twigs, jagged rocks and other forest debris was definitely beginning to take its toll on the soles of his feet, so he imagined that Usagi was also feeling the pain, too. She didn't complain though, and she pressed onward with him until, finally, his muscles seized, screaming painfully in protest, and his lungs felt like they were expelling molten lava rather than air, and he couldn't go any further.

Usagi had reached her limit at the same time as him, and she collapsed to her knees, heaving, her breath ragged, in the middle of a clearing. He fell down beside her. "Usako," he gasped through his teeth that were gritted in pain. "Just a bit more, okay?" he pleaded softly.

She was on her knees, leaning back on her haunches, her palms pressed into the dirt in front of her, as she craned her neck sideways, to meet his gaze. Tears were trailing through the dirt and blood smeared on her cheeks.

She shook her head. "I can't," she croaked, her chest rapidly rising and falling with each labored breath.

He leaned towards her, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smirk. "Yes, you can," he reassured vehemently. "You can do anything."

There was enough conviction in his words that she nodded with determination. She whimpered as she pulled herself to her feet. The muscles in his legs twitched, the tendons popping with pain, but he followed suit, and wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her as they slowly limped out of the clearing before collapsing at the base of a particularly wide oak tree; safely hidden in the density of some camellia bushes.

He leaned his head back against the rough bark, clenched his eyes shut and focused on slowing his breathing, while still keeping an ear out for any indication that they'd been tracked this far.

When he could finally catch his breath, and it didn't feel like his heart was going to burst through his chest, he opened his eyes and turned towards Usagi. She'd curled her arms around her bare, scraped legs that she tucked into her chest. Her head buried in her knees; blonde hair rippling around her like a protective curtain long enough to sweep along the ground.

He exhaled slowly, the cold air curling around his lips. "Usako," he began, his tone crisp. "Do you know if there's anything nearby?" He was very aware of their current predicament, now. Shoeless, weaponless, and phoneless. Meaning they were utterly defenseless in the middle of nowhere.

Which did not really bode well because the mist had thickened around them, which, he supposed, was great to make sure they stayed hidden, but everything was damp, and now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was very aware of the cold that was seeping through his torn clothing.

So was Usagi, too, because she shivered as she lifted her head, her misery-filled eyes locking onto his. "The closest place is Kinkakuji temple, and it's at least six miles away," she responded blandly, her tone filled with despondency. "And that's if we make our way back to the road. If we stay in the forest, it's further."

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers hit a particularly tender spot on his scalp. Things were indeed looking grim. "How long before you can walk again?" he questioned, not looking forward to standing back up himself.

She grimaced, her nose wrinkling adorably at the thought. "I don't know," she admitted miserably.

Mamoru nodded with understanding. "Okay," he conceded quietly. "We'll stay here for a little bit, catch our breath, and then we'll make our way to the temple." He'd been there once or twice in the real world, and it was a popular tourist location. There was bound to be someone there with a phone.

Usagi nodded, and then it fell silent between them. The only sounds were the leaves from the trees whistling, the creaking of the boughs moving in the wind and the occasional bird chirping.

Everything seemed to slow down, and it felt like he finally had a moment to process everything that had just happened in Jadeite's manor. The implications of how badly the cords of this ruthless, cold-hearted character had been woven in the brightly lit ribbons of his Usako twisted his heart in his chest.

He knew that ultimately, it didn't matter. Even if _this_ was _the_ nightmare. The one that he failed to save her, and she continued down this path of pain and cruelty. He'd still stay, and he would always love her until his very last breath left his body. He hoped that it didn't come to that, though, and he wondered…

"Did you do it, Usagi?" he questioned softly and kept his gaze firmly fixed on a partially broken flower in the ground in front of him. "Did you kill the priestess?"

She didn't say anything right away, so he was reasonably certain that she wasn't going to respond, and she had no way of knowing that the priestess was Rei, anyway. Still, he wanted to know what he was dealing with. Could he bring her back from this?

Finally, she shifted beside him, and he held his breath when she cleared her throat to answer. "I don't know, Mamoru."

He did turn towards her, then, his eyes flashing angrily as he locked his gaze onto her face. "You don't know?" he demanded and that answer, more than anything, broke his heart. "Have you killed so many people, _innocent people_ , that you don't _remember_ her?"

His tone was harsh and condemning. This wasn't Usagi. _This wasn't her._

Her expression darkened and the hardened contours that he'd become accustomed to in the past couple of days reappeared as she boldly faced him. "How dare you judge me!" She snapped, her eyes filled with rage, "You have no idea what I've had to _do._ The things I've had to give up to survive," she hissed, and her arms trembled, and her lower lip quivered. "Do you think I was some spoiled little rich kid that was handed a wealthy family dynasty on a fucking _silver platter_?"

Her eyes were wild with a mixture of sorrow and rage now, and he wasn't sure if it was because she was exhausted, physically and emotionally, but either way, it was what he wanted. To break open the hardened shell encased around her heart.

He didn't say a word, and his silence spurred her to continue. "Do you think that I wanted to be this way?" She whispered, the chords of her voice trembling with barely restrained emotion. "Trust me. It was either kill or be killed, Mamoru. I survived and built something from _nothing._ "

He laughed humorlessly and shook his head in disbelief. "What did you build, Usagi?" he scoffed. "I can tell you exactly what _I see_ when I look at the person you claim that you needed to become," he exclaimed angrily, and her eyes widened, lips parted in shock as he leaned towards her. "I see an empire built purely out of fear. There is not a single person that is loyal to you, Usagi. They'd throw you to the wolves before risking anything for you. Look at Asahi and Kaito," his tone was ragged, filled with churlish desperation. "Is that what you want? A ton of blood money, surrounded by people who _hate_ you?"

It was harsh, though not nearly as savage as the things she'd done. But, damn, it was effective, because her eyes welled with tears, and she visibly swallowed, before briskly averting her gaze.

He took a deep breath, his heart aching because of the painful way this nightmare had been crafted to torture them, when she spoke again. "I can walk now," she whispered. "I want to go home."

His heart clenched at the word 'home' because this wasn't _home._ It wasn't where she belonged, and he blinked back his own tears, swallowed, and wordlessly moved to stand. His legs practically screeched in protest, still not fully recovered, as he held his hand out to help her up.

For a second, he thought she wasn't going to take it, but, gaze still averted, she grasped his wrist and leveraged it to stand. She sucked in a pained breath, and he barely grasped her waist in time to keep her from falling.

Her arm instinctively curled around his neck, and her fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

She nodded, pulling away, wobbling and wincing as she steadied herself. "I'm fine," she replied. "My legs just hurt."

He nodded, through his gaze swept the length of her to make sure there wasn't any horribly visible wound that he'd missed. She wrapped her arms around her midsection, and she twisted away from him, slowly making her way out of the brush and back into the clearing.

With a sigh of resignation, he followed her, and they began to trek slowly through the forest towards what he assumed was the temple.

They were both in pretty rough condition; so it took most of their concentration to just focus on putting one step in front of the other. So he wasn't concerned that they'd spent the past forty minutes trekking in silence.

He was surprised, though, that she was the first one to break the silence. "Why did _you_ stay, Mamoru?" She'd whispered it; a breathy question filled with a raw vulnerability that had him glancing at her to study her profile before he answered.

Her expression was stoic as she stared ahead, but the sorrow that was etched into her movements and the slump of her shoulders had his heart racing with hope.

He knew what she was asking. She wanted to know why he hadn't left with Kaito and Asahi when given a chance. He wanted to tell her the truth. It was because he loved her. Even this version of her. Instead, he smiled and shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe I see what you could be, instead of what you think you have to be, Usako."

She frowned, mulling over his response, before laughing drily in disbelief. "And, what do you think I could be, Mamoru?" She demanded, her tone tinged with sarcasm, her shoulders stiffening defensively.

He smiled wryly, "Oh, I don't know," he murmured. "What about a warrior of justice and love?" It was meant to be a joke. Truly, it was. But, he choked on the words, because he'd give anything to have his bright, beautiful Moon Senshi fall clumsily into his arms right now.

She choked on a laugh, "You're not serious?" She sputtered in disbelief.

His smile was wistful, now, and he shrugged again. "No, I guess I'm not," he replied, still steadily moving towards their intended destination. "You can be good, though, Usagi. There is so much beauty inside of you." He knew that because he knew her, of course. But Usagi stumbled, halting, frozen in her tracks at his words.

He turned towards her, brow raised, and she shook her head. Her eyes were wide and filled with confusion. "How could you possibly know that there is anything beautiful inside of me? You barely know me, Mamoru," she whispered hoarsely, though his heart skipped a beat because there was a hope tinged in there too. Something he hadn't heard since waking up here.

His responding smile was tender this time as he studied her face, carefully considering his next words. "Do _you_ think that there is beauty inside of you, Usako?" He probed, and, once again, his question startled her.

He watched as a vast array of facial expressions crossed her face, as the nightmare version of Usagi had never been forced to face herself or the things she'd done before. And, just like he knew it would, the bright shining cords of light that belonged to _his_ Usagi won, and her eyes welled with tears at the horrifying self-realization of who she was.

She swallowed, her eyes welling with tears, as she shook her head. "No," she replied miserably. "There is nothing worth saving inside of me."

He inhaled sharply, and just because he couldn't stand it any longer, and the desolate misery in her voice broke his heart, he lifted his hand and gently caressed the side of her face. "You're wrong, Usako."

He stepped towards her, closing the gap between them, and the breath hitched in his throat as she curled her fingers into the fabric at the front of his shirt, tilting her chin upwards, lips parted, eyes wide and filled with anticipation as he lifted his arms and gently cradled her face in his hands. The pads of his thumb tenderly swiping over the bruise on her cheekbone.

His lips were mere inches away from pressing onto hers, their breath weaving hotly in between them when a piercing cry of rage resonated loudly through the silence. "Usagi!"

They both twisted towards the source of the sound, and he was startled to realize that they'd made it to the road. The realization was short-lived though because barreling towards them with a fierce rage contorted darkly onto his face was Kunzite.

He opened his mouth to speak but didn't get the chance. Kunzite raised his gun and violently smashed the butt of the handle onto the base of his skull. He promptly crumpled to the ground, and the last thing he heard before everything went black was Usagi's cry of horrified dismay.

 **oOo**

He was getting used to waking up with a dull ache throbbing in his head, but _this_ was a whole different level of headache. The sharp stabbing sensation that coursed through the back of his skull when he opened his eyes elicited a feral groan that resonated painfully loud around him. _Damn._ Was he dead? He definitely felt like death, and it took a moment, with images of Kunzites' murderous expression popping into the forefront of his mind, before he managed to open his eyes again.

He was back in the mansion; that much was evident by the familiar, neutrally painted walls that he recognized from the plain room that he'd been assigned to.

He blinked, grimacing as he propped himself up onto his elbows, then his brows furrowed into a confused frown. It looked like the room that Makoto had shown him to yesterday, but it wasn't. The layout was slightly different. Not to mention that he was currently laying on the thick, plush surface of a mattress resting on a twin-bed frame rather than the less than comfortable tatami mat he'd been assigned to the night before.

The room was dim, the lights off, and it was only the waning daylight peeking through the coarse brown shutters of the lone window in the bedroom. It barely lit up the room, casting shadows against the walls.

With less difficulty than he expected, though every limb in his body was still throbbing, he pulled himself up into a sitting position. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, wincing when the muscles in his thighs screeched in protest and ran his fingers through his hair.

He noted then that, not only was he bare-chested, but his arms and torso were bandaged, presumably from the cuts and scrapes courtesy of the sharp glass from the window that he'd barreled through or the jagged rocks that had torn through his clothing when he'd rolled himself down the hillside with Usagi tucked in his arms.

The thought of Usagi elicited another sigh, this one pained and exhausted as he propped his elbows onto his knees and buried his head in his hands. He'd been getting somewhere. He was sure of it, and if not for Kunzite's interruption, he would have… what? _Kissed her again?_ Magically pulled the webbed, implanted, cords of the cruel and vile gangster out of her with just his lips?

He choked back a bark of pained, self-deprecating laughter; when had the nightmares _ever_ been that easy?

He was finding this one particularly tricky. Although, the fact that he was in a room, his wounds professionally treated was a good sign. He was wondering where Usagi was, or if she was okay when the door to his room slid open. The sound of the wood scraping across the floor was _unimaginably_ loud.

He ignored the pain in his body and twisted his torso around to face the door. It was Makoto that stepped over the threshold, her face pale and her expression just as grim as it had been the last time he'd seen it.

She froze mid-stride when her gaze fell onto him, and visibly relaxed. "Oh, thank God," she breathed, relieved as she shut the door behind her.

He grinned ruefully with an apologetic shrug. "I'd say that it looks worse than it feels, but I'd be lying," he admitted wryly.

Makoto rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and exhaled with a sigh of exasperation. "Just out of curiosity, what happens if you die?" She snapped harshly, her tone pained and laced with worry. "Does that mean I have to get her to fall in love with _me_ ," she demanded sarcastically, "or am I stuck in this hell hole of a life with friends who've been brainwashed worse than that time you were brainwashed by Beryl?"

She frowned, lost in thought, as she tapped a slender finger against her lips in contemplation. "Hmm… or that time with Dark lady. Then, actually, there was Nehelenia…" she trailed off at the scowl on his face.

If you put it like _that_ , it did _seem_ like a lot...

Makoto raised an eyebrow. "It's a bit ironic that you're the only one that _isn't_ under some kind of spell," she murmured, almost as if wondering a thought out loud. "You get brainwashed _quite_ a bit, actually. If you think about it—"

He lifted his hands in surrender, interrupting her through gritted teeth. "Point taken, Makoto!" He snapped and shook his head in annoyance, the sharp movement slightly painful. That was the last thing he wanted to be reminded of right now.

Makoto rolled her eyes, then waved her hand dismissively. "Regardless, what _does_ happen if you die in here? Because, I'm not going to lie here, Mamoru," she admitted sharply. "That was a terrifying couple of hours."

Mamoru shifted on the bed, wincing with the movement as he stretched out his arm, testing its strength. Other than overall aching, some bandaged superficial wounds, and the headache —courtesy of Kunzite— he'd managed to survive that ordeal relatively unscathed.

"I don't know, Makoto," he murmured with a frown. "Guess I'll have to make sure we don't find out." He flexed his fingers tentatively before lifting his eyes back up to the brunette. "What happened to, Usagi? Is she okay?"

Makoto's expression hardened, and her shoulders visibly tensed, which made his heart drop into the pit of his stomach in disappointment.

Makoto swallowed, shifted her weight from one foot to the other before shrugging with forced nonchalance. "She's fine. All things considered," she began, her tone hard and unyielding. "Kunzite took care of all of those who followed Akiyama-san," her eyes darkened. "Which means that they're all dead. They were a part of the Yakuza's Aizu Kotetsu-kai. Which is a smaller group, but they were supposedly allied with the Tsukino's."

Mamoru's heart twisted painfully in his chest at the thought of a broken-hearted Jadeite, staring down the barrel of a gun, his eyes haunted and filled with hatred for Usagi. _It wasn't her fault._ But, it hadn't been his, either.

Makoto's eyes were filled with cold apprehension as she paused, swallowed, before continuing. "I've been tasked with searching out and finding Kaito and Asahi," she stated coldly. "Apparently I'm a skilled tracker and an equally skilled murderer."

Mamoru inhaled sharply, "Who ordered that?" He already knew the answer before it spilled from Makoto's lips. There was no way that one small interaction in the middle of the woods would undo all the damage the monsters had done to Usagi's psyche.

It was still unbearably disappointing to hear, though. "Kumicho Tsukino ordered it, of course," Makoto replied sardonically, a humorless half-smirk on her lips. "Who else?"

Mamoru cursed, grinding his fist into the mattress in frustration. Had he made any kind of impact? He needed to _see_ her.

"You must have done something right, though, Mamoru," Makoto exclaimed. "Looks like you've moved up in the ranks, Kyōdai Chiba." She laughed drily, and Mamoru hated to see Makoto like this. "She sent me to see if you were well enough to join the sordid affair they call dinner."

Mamoru stood then, infinitely relieved that he was wearing pants as he tested the weight on his limbs, found that the dull ache in his legs was manageable, and closed the gap between him and Makoto.

She didn't move as he approached, her expression was cold, tired, and slightly wary. "Makoto," he began softly, his expression sympathetic. "I know that this sucks, but I've made some progress, and I promise you that I will get us out of here."

Her expression didn't soften, but there was a flash of hope in her eyes. "I know, Mamoru," she responded brokenly. "It's just tough to see her like this, you know?" She choked on her words, and his heart flipped because he _definitely_ knew. "If there is any Usagi left in there, she'd _hate_ that she was doing these things. It would kill her if she knew, Mamoru."

He nodded in agreement and opted not to tell Makoto about Rei. He'd get them out of here before she found out. Now that he knew that he could appeal to Usagi's humanity, that was precisely what he intended to do. She wasn't as cold and ruthless as she'd have everyone believe.

Makoto exhaled slowly and stepped back towards the door. "Look, you better get dressed and get to the dining hall. I have to head out and find these traitors, and I'm kind of hoping that you get us out of here before I do."

He nodded as she twisted the handle on the door. Dread began to pool uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach as he watched her go. "Oh, Mamoru," she whispered, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Watch out for Kunzite. He's out for blood, and he likes Usagi this way," she warned before twisting around, and striding through the door, her shoulders squared and confident like the ruthless fighter she was being forced to play.

He tried not to let the hopelessness seep in as his eyes remained fixed on the empty doorway where she'd just disappeared. He hoped that when this was over when they'd erased this nightmarish world from existence, that Makoto's memories of this nightmare would be erased, too.

 **oOo**

Mamoru wished that he'd paid more attention when Asahi had guided him through the endless, similar looking halls that all seemed to twist and bend the same way. How was it even possible that this house was that big? And, why had he suddenly been granted the privilege of roaming through it on his own?

Not that he was _complaining,_ or anything. He'd made headway in that aspect of this world at least, which would make getting around undetected much easier without the constant, annoyingly watchful eyes of the twin Brutes that had been assigned to him. The reminder that Asahi and Kaito had been branded traitors and were seemingly being hunted by Makoto, no less, instantly sobered him just as he rounded the corner towards what he now recognized as the hall where the dining room was located.

He'd run through different scenarios in his mind; what he would say and do the next time he faced Usagi. He felt like he was relatively prepared to see her, as he was certain that he'd made at least some sort of difference in her cold disposition. _There was no way she'd been faking that emotion in the woods._ He should have known that things never tended to go his way, though, and he halted in his tracks as she rounded the corner at the end of the hall.

It was as if nothing had happened; dressed in another sleek black, tightly-cinched, low-cut, layered chiffon dress. _Damn._ Despite himself and his resolve to save his pure-hearted, pink-cheeked, naively innocent Moon Princess. He couldn't help but be affected by her dressed like a seductive hardened criminal.

There were simply no words to describe the way his pulse quickened at the sight of her like this. Though he could do without the ruthlessness, she was still _stunning_ ; a tall, perfectly sculpted masterpiece of perfection moving gracefully across the floor in another pair of stilettos. If not for the shadow of a bruise on her face, and the discreetly covered bandage peeking out from beneath an intricate sleeve of lace, you'd never know that she'd spent any time barefoot, barreling through the debris of the forest with him.

She was alone; though, given what had happened to her, he was sure that wouldn't last long. He took a deep, determined breath, and ignored the lingering pain in his legs as he widened his strides to close the gap between them.

He didn't take his eyes off of her face as he approached, and with every step, his heart fell a little further. There was nothing in her eyes, but a hardened, shrewd stare of cool curiosity and the hint of a smirk curled onto blood-red lips. He wanted to reach out and wipe the gaudy lipstick away.

He stopped in front of her, brow furrowed, suddenly feeling unsure, "Usako—"

She scowled and lifted a delicate hand, a sharp flick of her wrist, to interrupt him. "You've proven yourself valuable, Chiba," she snapped steadily, her voice that bone-chilling trill that made his blood run cold. "As compensation for your _loyalty,_ I am happy to have you as a part of the Kyodai." He was sure that the frustration was evident on his face when she stepped towards him, her smirk widening as she tilted her head to peer up at him coldly. "But, if you _ever_ address me by anything other than Kumicho Tsukino, or mention anything that transpired in those woods, I'll make good on my promise to put a bullet in your brain."

It was a hissed demand with a pop of her lips, and his stomach turned as his heart clenched painfully in his chest. _He hadn't made a difference_. It was a crushing realization that ripped him apart. She was _just_ as cruel and unreachable _as ever_. He wanted to hit something. Or, scream with rage while forcibly shaking the viciousness _out of her._ Because this _fucking_ sucked, and he wanted _his_ Usagi back. He'd made a promise to Makoto and, more than anything, she was his goddamn reason for breathing, and he _needed_ to save her.

Instead, he snapped his mouth shut, jaw clenched and nodded curtly. _What the hell was he going to do now?_ There had to be a way to get through to her. There was _always_ a way.

He could feel the hopelessness beginning to seep through, still frozen in front of her when a sharply uttered command pulled him from his thoughts.

"Usagi!"

The silver-haired General wore a murderous expression as he stepped through the dragon etched doorway and into the hall. There was a fleeting flash of exasperation on Usagi's face as she stepped back until she was standing beside her brother.

The corners of her lips curled up into a reassuring smile as she laid a delicate hand on his arm. "There's no need to shout, brother," she murmured softly. "I was just about to come in."

It was apparent that Usagi was trying to appease her hot-headed sibling that stood tall, his muscles coiled tensely as if in preparation to fight, his icy-blue stare fixed angrily on Mamoru's face. Not for the first time since the nightmares had begun, Mamoru was tempted to wipe Kunzite's callous expression away with his fist.

Instead, he fought against the urge, his expression impassive as he steadily kept eye contact with the general that seemingly expected him to back down. Which, Mamoru did _not_ intend to do.

"We've been waiting for you, Usa," Kunzite practically growled. "I'm not sure why you're wasting your time speaking to the _help,"_ he sneered spitefully.

Mamoru raised a brow in amusement, which, as expected, infuriated the general even more. Unsurprisingly, as Kunzite was pretty much unhinged, the general growled, a feral sound, as he reached for the gun on his hip. Did they need to carry those things everywhere?

Usagi tsked soothingly, effectively calming him with a smile and squeeze of her hand on his wrist. " _The help_ that _did_ save my life, Kunz," she pointed out gently, and Mamoru watched in amazement as it cooled the Generals blazing temper.

His expression had settled into a petulant scowl as he flicked his gaze from Usagi back onto Mamoru. "I don't trust him, Usa," he spat, and Mamoru was getting really tired of being spoken about as if he weren't standing _right here._

Usagi laughed, a low, breathy sound that was sultry, un-Usagi like, but sent shudders down his spine all the same. "Well, I _do,"_ she emphasized gently, and Mamoru's breath hitched hopefully in his throat. "Besides," she continued with a scornful smile he couldn't stand to see. "I was just putting him back in his place."

He swallowed with barely restrained disgust, hopes dashed, throat constricted angrily as Kunzite nodded, seemingly appeased, as he possessively clasped Usagi's wrist and pulled her through the doorway into the brightly lit dining room; leaving him no choice but to follow desolately behind them.

The dining room was relatively full; the long, cherry wood varnished table covered with an array of dishes, the delicious aroma making his mouth water. There were approximately six other men seated in the room and, like Asahi and Kaito, they were bruting, sullen-faced, and, unsurprisingly, armed with guns.

There were a couple of exceptions; women, uniformed, flitting in and out of the room. Presumably serving dinner, and Hinata, the man Usagi had punished the day before, standing along the wall with another man that he'd never seen.

The conversation in the room was loud and boisterous before Usagi, and Kunzite walked in. Then, it was as if their very presence sucked the sound from the room, replacing it with the chilled chords of fear instead. Usagi was the picture of power as she made her way around the table, and when her gaze coolly swept over the table's occupants, the grown, muscled men, literally sunk in their seats. Their eyes respectfully averted. Hinata, Mamoru noted, was gaunt, and more terrified than the rest.

He wasn't sure what the etiquette of a kyodai — _whatever the hell that was supposed to be—_ entailed. So, he opted to stay standing, his eyes glued to Usagi's lithe form as she moved to sit at the head of the table.

Her eyes met his for a moment, and she arched a golden brow, tilting her head slightly towards an empty chair beside brute number… seven? Eight? He'd never keep them all straight in his head, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he stepped forward, and lowered himself into the seat she'd indicated.

From this angle, he had a perfect view of Usagi, and, while the others forcibly focused their eyes on anything _but_ her, he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the contours of her face. The slight curve of her neck, the soft angled edges of her cheekbone...

This nightmare was torture.

"At ease, gentlemen," Kunzite exclaimed, his tone laced with amusement. "Jadeite and the gutter rats that followed him are dead, and my beautiful sister, Kumicho Tsukino, is home, safe and sound," Kunzite cheered, though there was a razor-sharp edge to his words that made Mamoru's fingers curl into fists under the table. "Eat! Laugh! Celebrate!" He roared boisterously, and the men around him cheered.

They'd been given permission to eat, and Mamoru's stomach churned because he felt like he was surrounded by a pack of cruel and savage animals that filled their plates, and spoke lightly about how they'd violently, and slowly ended Jadeite's life.

Kunzite, he noted, liked to talk, and he could barely manage to keep the disgust from showing on his face as he listened to the banter around him. This world and everything about it made him sick.

He couldn't manage to muster up an appetite and the idea that Usagi might be trapped here, like this, doing these things forever, dimmed the hope that he'd been holding onto so tightly up until this moment. He'd been moving forward in this nightmare with the firm and unwavering belief that he could appeal to the most beautiful staples of Usagi's personality as he knew it. It had worked in every horrible world so far. But, what if it didn't work here because the ultimate goal of all of this was to destroy everything good about her?

His heart involuntarily quickened at the painful thought, and his breath hitched in his throat because the idea that she was really _gone_ tore him up inside.

He couldn't hear what Kunzite and the others were saying anymore. The other Kyodai had attempted to engage him in conversation several times. Though, they'd seemingly given up when he didn't reciprocate. He couldn't manage words, even if he tried; his eyes were fixed firmly on Usagi.

She'd been mostly silent, her expression painfully unreadable as she absentmindedly pushed the food around on her plate, yet _another_ thing that was unlike his Usako.

He wondered how he was going to adjust to life with her like this. Though it was painful to consider, there was no question about it. He was going to stay with her, _regardless_ of the outcome.

He was lost in thought, wistfully studying her profile, when she unexpectedly looked up and craned her neck to the side. His brows drew together into a puzzled frown because she was focused, suddenly, on something across the room.

She didn't realize that he was watching her, so his breath caught in his throat, and the faint wisps of hope roared back to life when a softened expression that was more reminiscent of _his_ Usagi, and less _Kumicho Tsukino_ , fell onto her face.

Her brow creased slightly into a small, uncertain frown, and she tilted her head to the side; her lower lip poised between her teeth as she appeared to be considering something. He followed her gaze, and his heart stopped, breath hitched in nervous anticipation when he realized she was watching Hinata.

The gaunt-faced, trembling advisor, eyes downcast sheepishly, stood with a couple of other outcasted men along the wall on the other side of the table. This moment felt like it was one of monumental importance, and Mamoru's gaze snapped back to Usagi whose eyes briefly swept over him.

 _It was there again_. The vulnerability that he was sure he'd imagined and his fisted hands shook underneath the table when she spoke.

"Hinata." The dominant chords of her tone effectively stopped the conversation in the room. Even Kunzite frowned as he glanced over at his sister with curiosity shining in his eyes. Hinata, on the other hand, looked terrified; wide-eyed, face pale and trembling, just like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. It was painful to see someone cower like that in front of her.

It must have been painful for Usagi, too, because her face flashed with remorse for just a split second. It was enough to make Mamoru want to leap from his seat, a shouted exclamation of pure elated _victory_ on his lips. There was no way he'd imagined that look this time, and he waited with bated breath to see what she was going to do.

Usagi cleared her throat, tilted her chin up imperiously and waved towards an empty seat at the end of the table. "Sit," she demanded, though there was a softened tone underlying the sharpness of her voice. "I'd like for you to eat."

Hinata shook his head slowly in disbelief, his eyes wildly flicking from her to Kunzite, whose expression had turned from mild curiosity to darkened, anger-tinged, confusion. "Usagi," Kunzite laughed. "You can't be _serious."_

Usagi's eyes narrowed coolly as she gracefully twisted her torso to meet Kunzite's eyes. "Have you ever known me to say something jokingly, brother?" She challenged, her tone steady, just above a whisper.

You could hear a pin drop, the silence in the room deafening and filled with tension as all of its occupants were frozen as they watched the scene unfold, varying expressions of confusion, horror, and surprise written on their faces. None were as startled as Kunzite though, who was definitely not used to being challenged by his sister. He seemed to consider his options for a moment, and Mamoru could see him mulling over the possibilities and the outcomes from what he would say next.

He opted to smile, force a laugh, and leaned back in his chair with a dismissive wave. "Of course not, beautiful sister," he responded with a light airiness that was so transparently forced. Mamoru knew he wasn't the only one to see through it. "By all means, Hinata," Kunzite's ice blue eyes fell onto the advisor, "eat."

Kunzite's jaw was clenched tightly, and all of the eyes in the room fell onto Hinata who was practically trembling now, his gaze darting wildly between Usagi and Kunzite.

He wisely made the decision to listen to Usagi, as he hesitantly stepped towards the table, bowed respectively, before seating himself. "Thank you, Kumicho Tsukino," he murmured reverently, as he gratefully leaned forward to slowly fill his plate.

Usagi nodded in response, straightening in her seat. "In the future, please don't be… _afraid_ to advise me. I'll heed your words more carefully next time."

He didn't miss the outburst of whispers and gasps that broke out across the room. This seemed to be enough for Kunzite, who laughed loudly. "Well, then!" He chortled, though it was tinged with fury. "Enough of the silence! Celebrate!"

It was an order, and the conversation around the room resumed, though the atmosphere was filled with more tension than it had been before.

Mamoru's heart was racing, because there was _no way_ that Usagi had chosen that specific word, subtly telling Hinata that she didn't want him to be _afraid_ if the things he'd said in the woods hadn't affected her.

His gaze met hers, and he decided that he wanted to take a chance. _He needed to know._ So, instead of carefully guarding his expression, his eyes filled with tenderness and his lips curled up into a small, approving smile.

It was just a momentary wisp that was fleeting, but a pink blush swept across her cheeks and, for just a moment, she returned his smile before her expression became shuttered once again and she turned back to her plate.

Mamoru's smile only faded when he felt another pair of eyes trained on him, and he turned to meet Kunzite's gaze. He inwardly grimaced, because if looks could kill, he'd be dead.

 **oOo**


	9. Chapter 5: Ruthless in Heels Prt 3

**Part 3**

He didn't get a chance to see Usagi again after dinner. She'd swept from the room without even glancing his way, eager to escape the Kyodai's prying eyes and silent questions. Because it was _very_ clear that Usagi's leniency was out of character. For them, anyway.

His eyes had still lingered on her retreating form with regret, and he'd longed to follow her out of the room; afraid to lose his momentum. That was ridiculous, of course, and he'd erred on the side of caution; forcibly remaining seated when she'd left. He wasn't sure what he would have said to her anyway, especially with Kunzite hot on her heels, hovering protectively with a menacing stare over his shoulder before he exited behind her.

The Kyodai practically pounced on him the moment the Tsukino's left the room, barraging him with questions; about Asahi, Kaito, and what had it been like to flee into the woods with Kumicho Tsukino?

He'd responded with tightly pressed lips, an icy stare, and one-worded answers before he'd excused himself and retreated back into the room that he supposed was now his. The evening had stretched out before him, promising to be an anxiety-ridden void of anticipation, but he was uninterested in exploring the grounds or venturing anywhere that Usagi wasn't.

Luckily, sleep didn't evade him, and he drifted off, feeling a little more hopeful while formulating a plan that would more than likely backfire.

Just like it usually did in the dream world, it felt like he'd only been asleep for a moment before he was being pulled awake by a sharp jab in his shoulder. This time when he opened his eyes, though, it was Makoto that was peering down at him. Emerald green hues glistening with an urgency that instantly wiped away any remnants of sleep.

He inhaled sharply, jolting up into a sitting position. His vision blurred for only a moment as all of the horrible, nightmarish events from the past couple of days firmly clicked back into place.

This world was unpredictable, and Makoto stepped back as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, wasting no time in rising. "What happened?" He demanded as he stood and strode across the room to the small, bamboo dresser that he'd discarded his clothes onto the night before.

For the first time in this nightmare, Makoto averted her eyes, an embarrassed blush rising up her neck and sweeping across her face.

In the real world, before all of the things he'd seen, he probably would have been mortified to be in front of one of Usagi's Senshi in any kind of state of undress. But he was in a hurry now, eager to get them out of here, and he didn't have time to dwell on trivial things.

Makoto cleared her throat, the awkward moment passing quickly as he dressed; pulling a crumpled black t-shirt on. "Nothing happened. Or, it hasn't yet, anyway," she began with a shake of her head, her glossy, chestnut-brown ponytail whipping back and forth with the movement. "You're being summoned. It looks like a representative of Akiyama-san is here to see the Tsukino's."

Mamoru froze, brow furrowed as he met Makoto's watchful gaze. From what he'd gathered in the conversation during dinner, Akiyama-san was Jadeite's family name. Which meant that one of his family members had come here for… retribution? To plead for mercy? Either way, his stomach churned nervously. There was no way that this was going to end well.

He must have remained silent for longer than usual, lost in thought, because Makoto rolled her eyes and sighed with exasperation. "Earth to Mamoru? Did you hear me? You've been summoned by the blood-thirsty love of your life!"

The anguish-tinged edge woven into that comment snapped Mamoru out of his thoughts, and his eyes narrowed onto Makoto's face as he studied her tensed, hardened expression. "Makoto," he began tentatively, "you're still with me, right?" His question was laced with gentle concern because he could see it happening slowly; the horror of this world chipping away at her heart.

Makoto's eyes widened, and her breath hitched, her lips parted in surprise. It took a moment, and he watched her _really_ consider his words. Finally, her shoulders relaxed, and she exhaled slowly, tucking a tendril of curled brown hair behind her ear. "Yes," she whispered. "Of course I'm still with you, Mamoru. I love her more than anything in this world. You _know_ that I do." The fierce vehemence in her words was a relief to hear. "It's just… I'm not sure how much longer I can watch her this way. I feel so _helpless_ ," she choked angrily on her words, her fingers curled into fists of frustration.

Mamoru nodded, his eyes shining sympathetically. He knew that feeling well. "I know, Makoto. Trust me," he reassured with a small smile. "We're going to get her out of this."

Mollified by his conviction-filled words, she nodded, eyes guarded, arms crossed, as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I know. You _are_ making a difference," she admitted quietly. "Usagi specifically requested you, Mamoru. So, if anything, at least she trusts you."

It was a relief to hear Makoto voice it out loud, and he couldn't help the involuntary way his lips curling up into a smile. Makoto's eyes widened, then it was like he was looking at Jupiter again, as her stiffened posture eased and she rolled her eyes. The corner of her lips quirking up into a hesitant half-smirk.

With a snort of amused disbelief, she swiveled around and strode towards the door. "Don't let it go to your head, Mamoru," she warned. "We are _so_ out of our depth, here."

He silently agreed as he followed her from the room, his steps in sync with hers. Makoto was quiet, gaze fixed firmly ahead of them as they walked, and he furtively studied her profile.

Usagi had saved the Senshi, in one way or another, when she'd walked into their lives. In turn, they loved her as fiercely as she loved them. Makoto, though, was like him. She'd been wading through a sea of grey, drowning in parentless, friendless isolation before Usagi had brought them together. It was probably why this world affected Makoto the most. It was almost as if the monsters had purposely crafted this role for her to test Makoto's love for Usagi.

He frowned, internally groaning in frustration. But _why?_

Makoto stopped, suddenly, and it pulled him from his thoughts. They were in a part of the manor that he hadn't been to yet. It was just as intrinsically beautiful as the rest of the house; polished floors, brightly-lit, tastefully decorated. But, that was not what caught his eye. They'd stopped in front of a traditional, paper-thin doorway that was partially opened, revealing a beautifully crafted wooden veranda. Beyond that, the curved, stone-edged lines of a vast inground pool. The sunlight glistening off of the rippled crystal blue water was almost blinding.

Mamoru raised a surprised brow, and he choked back a bark of disbelieving laughter as he glanced over at Makoto. "A pool?" He questioned incredulously; tone tinged with sarcasm. There was always a damn pool scene in B-rated action movies, and, unfortunately for him, they rarely ended well.

Makoto shrugged. "It's where we're meeting," she replied, her smile forced as she stepped out onto the veranda. "At least it's a reprieve from hunting Asahi and Kaito," she muttered under her breath.

He opened his mouth to respond because he wanted to ask her more about that, but the words disappeared like wisps of smoke, tangling on his tongue when he caught sight of Usagi standing beside the pool.

 _Fuck._ She was all sloping curves, toned edges, hard and soft all at the same time, with sun-kissed skin in a two-piece strappy bikini. The taut black fabric _barely_ covered her. Even the white sarong slung across the tantalizing planes of her hips was _see-through_. Leaving practically nothing to the goddamn imagination.

If that weren't enough to make his heart hammer in his chest, the blonde silken locks of her hair were left loose and rippled down her back and around her shoulders; a curtain of glistening curls that made him feel the sudden need to swallow.

She was, of course, sporting another pair of ridiculously high and impractical stiletto heels, but it added to the look, highlighting her legs. He'd seen those legs thousands of times. It wasn't like the skirt of her fuku was long by any means, so why the hell was he so affected by the sight of her in a bikini? The blood in his veins began to boil with a mixture of uncontrolled lust and the need to cover her up with something, tuck her safely into his arms, and hide her from view.

He dimly registered that she wasn't alone; Kunzite and a string of armed men surrounded her. There were also women, in various states of undress, splashing in the pool, lounging by the water. Drinks were being passed around freely, and the dull thrumming base of music being played over a surround system echoed around them. It was _exactly_ like what you'd expect from a scene in a terrible action movie, and his chest tightened nervously as he shared a trepidation-filled glance with Makoto.

Usagi's expression didn't change as he approached; it remained impassive, though he was sure there a flash of relief in the china-blue pools of her eyes. "Good, you're here." Her tone was brisk, emotionless as she craned her neck to the side towards the men lined up behind her with stern looks on their faces. "Yuuti," she summoned, extending a delicate wrist her palm facing up.

One of the men, not nearly as bruting as Asahi and Kaito, but menacing all the same, stepped towards her, bowed respectively and handed her a gun.

Usagi nodded, then took a step towards him. The scent of lavender and vanilla assaulted his senses with her approach, and he used the familiar, Usagi-like smell to ground him as his eyes met her gaze. _God_ , she was so tantalizingly beautiful.

The half-smirk that quirked onto her lips, along with an arched blonde eyebrow, conveyed amused confidence as she leaned forward and slowly trailed her fingers down the length of his arm.

He hoped his shudder wasn't visible, and he did his best not to show how much she affected him, as her fingers curled around his wrist. She pressed the gun into his hand, and the weapon was lighter than he'd expected, given the heavy weight of what it could do. He gripped the handle, and it was probably all in his head, but it felt like its smooth surface was burning his skin.

She must have seen something that he hadn't managed to hide in his eyes because her brow furrowed slightly, and she tilted her head to the side with curiosity, blonde hair tumbling over the silky-smooth skin of her bared shoulder with the movement. His breath hitched as he studied her face; small, pert chin tilted up towards him, stunning blue eyes searching his gaze, and though she'd clearly applied makeup, he could still see the shadow of a bruise on her cheekbone.

He resisted the urge to lift his hand and tuck her hair behind her ear when she laughed. The sound was low and throaty, and her breath warmly fanned across his face. "How strange that you don't like guns," she murmured softly, the syllables rolling off her tongue in a tantalizing lilt. "You're different from the others. Do you know where you are and what kind of life this is, Mamoru?"

Her question made his heart start racing, and he was very aware that everyone around the pool, including Kunzite and his thugs, were watching the exchange with sharp questioning eyes. He wasn't sure if the implication was a warning; the Usagi of this world was difficult to read, and he could feel the panic set in when her lips curled into a smile.

"Relax, Mamoru," she whispered on a breathy chuckle. "It's just in case something happens. It might be beneficial to be armed this time, right?" She questioned, a teasing, sweet tone laced into her words that were confusing the hell out of him.

He nodded in affirmation and opened his mouth to respond when the low, angry baritone of Kunzite's voice interrupted him.

"Enough of this, Usagi," he growled, and his expression was dark, dangerous and scowling. "I'm not sure why you felt the need to ask a new Kyodai who can barely hold a gun to this meeting," he snapped scathingly, his lips curled over his teeth in a hate-filled sneer, ice-blue eyes glaring at him angrily.

Usagi stepped back, gracefully twirling around to face her brother, an unreadable expression on her face as she steadily met his gaze. "It's very strange to me how easy it is for you to _forget_ that if not for Mamoru, I would not be standing here today." Her calmly uttered statement managed to soften Kunzites expression. "It is difficult to find good help that you trust. Wouldn't you agree, Kunz?"

Kunzite did not reply, but he nodded curtly, almost apologetically, before his expression settled into a sullen stare. Usagi seemed satisfied with his response, and her gaze shifted onto Makoto, who stood stiffly beside him. "Speaking of finding _good_ help, have you located Kaito and Asahi, Mako-chan?"

Makoto's jaw was clenched so tightly he was sure it was going to snap if she didn't relax. "No, not yet, Kumicho Tsukino," she replied through gritted teeth, and Mamoru inwardly winced. This was so much harder for Makoto than he'd surmised.

Kunzite let out a bark of humorless laughter. "Looks like you're getting weak, Makoto," he chortled. "Are you losing your touch, oh, fearless, Amazonian warrior?"

That jibe, _more than anything,_ affected Makoto and Mamoru's heart clenched painfully in his chest at the way her face paled, her eyes widened, and her lips parted on a sharp intake of breath.

He was starting to panic now because Makoto had yet to speak, and Kunzite's amused smile was fading, eyes narrowing in confusion. Though he tried, he couldn't manage to catch Makoto's eye, so he reached out and gently squeezed her arm.

It was effective, and Makoto snapped her mouth shut, forced a laugh, and waved her hand dismissively. "I've never failed you before, Oyabun Tsukino. This is not the exception."

Kunzite was mollified with Makoto's response, and he was promptly distracted by a particularly voluptuous red-head in scraps of blue bikini material, a tray of drinks in her hand.

The tension seemed to wane as the other men accepted drinks and exchanged salacious banter that made his stomach churn when he finally took note of Usagi's expression; it was filled with a mixture of irritation and anger as her narrowed gaze flicked between him and Makoto. It was only a cursory look, and just as quickly, her expression hardened and smoothed out impassively.

His brows drew together into a confused frown as he watched her twist around. Her movements were graceful, panther-like, as she made her way around Kunzite, and lowered the rippling contoured edges of her lithe form onto a cushioned lounging chair beneath a cherry-wood pergola perched on the side of the pool.

Kunzite, who had also been watching his sister, turned back towards them, his eyes sweeping over Makoto, "Well, my pretty Amazonian warrior, why don't you have a drink? Relax those stiffened shoulders. Maybe throw on a bathing suit. Aren't you feeling warm in all of those clothes? I can help you take them off," he offered suggestively, taking a step towards Makoto who was clearly struggling to keep a neutral expression on her face.

Makoto was tough, though, and she met his gaze, a defiant look in her eyes, arms crossed, and a contrived smirk on her lips. "Don't you already have your hands full? I'm told that you were kept quite busy with someone else," she snapped, a harshly muttered statement filled with warning.

Kunzite was unaffected by Makoto's rebuff, "Ah, yes," he chuckled. "Mina is still waiting in bed for me like a good girl." Makoto tensed, cringing at the mention of Minako. Luckily, Kunzite was too full of himself to notice. "Would you like to join us?" He offered lewdly with a suggestive smile that made Mamoru's stomach turn. He _hated_ the Kunzite of this world; cold-hearted, being forced to play a role whose personality was the polar opposite of the fiercely loyal general he remembered.

Makoto opened her mouth to retort hotly, and he braced himself, prepared to intervene when she was promptly interrupted by a sweetly chiming voice from behind them. "My apologies, Oyabun Tsukino." It was a slender, green-eyed girl, dressed in one of the black laced uniforms of the mansions serving girls. "I don't mean to interrupt you, but Akiyama Daigo has arrived. Should I bring him here?"

The girl's voice wavered, and she visibly trembled as Kunzite's face darkened with annoyance. "Obviously, you stupid girl," he sneered caustically.

Mamoru grit his teeth, his fingers clenched around the gun — _that he had no idea how to use_ — as he forcibly averted his gaze and resisted the urge to say something in the girl's defense. He needed to remind himself, though, that this world, and the people that lived in it, except for the ones he knew, didn't matter.

The girl nodded; her cheeks red with embarrassment as she scurried back the way that she'd come. Presumably to guide Daigo onto the veranda.

He shoved the gun into the pocket of his jeans as they moved beneath the pergola with Usagi. He opted to stand close to her, watching as she moved into an upright sitting position, endlessly long legs daintily crossed, one slender arm draped across the back of the chair, the other one resting demurely in her lap, the material of her sarong bunched up at her hips.

She was so beautiful; it was almost painful to look at her, and it went against every instinct that he possessed to just stand here and let another potentially life-threatening situation happen. Though, this time, she was safely ensconced with a crew of armed, angry-looking men in her territory. Still… he subtly inched a little closer. The movement went unnoticed by everyone except for a hawk-eyed Kunzite, who was the only other person to sit, leaning back arrogantly on a sleek, resin wicker, L-shaped sofa with taupe-colored cushions. His knees spread apart as he palmed the gun he'd pulled from his pocket, a warning half-smirk on his lips.

Kunzite's gaze softened, though, when it settled onto Usagi, who was resolutely staring ahead. "Don't worry, sister," he reassured gently. "Akiyama will get _exactly_ what they deserve," he promised darkly, a snake-like smile of vengeance sliding onto his face.

Usagi, he noted, said nothing, and on the outside, she was the picture of impassive perfection. Her posture was tense, though, and there was none of that smug confidence that she'd casually dismissed him with before they'd encountered Jadeite's gun, and he'd subtly pleaded with her to take a look inward at the cruelty festering inside of her. He was wondering if she was replaying that terrifying scene in her head over again when their guests arrived.

There were four of them being led by the slender brunette that had cowered in front of Kunzite only moments ago. They were unremarkable brutes; casually dressed, tattooed, hulking figures which seemed to be a Yakuza signature. The one at the front, though, stood out from the others. He was lithe, black hair slicked back, angled features in an expensive suit. There was a dangerous air about him as he halted and stopped his followers with a sharp flick of his wrist before bowing respectively.

His expression was contrite, but the icy look emanating from his eyes as they slid over Usagi was chilling. "Tsukino Usagi, I'm so glad to see that you're well," he exclaimed his tone dripping with a forced note of concern.

Mamoru's pulse quickened, adrenaline coursing through his veins, as he fixed his gaze worriedly onto Usagi.

Kunzite scoffed loudly in response to Daigo's thinly-veiled statement, but Usagi tilted her head to the side as she shrewdly studied him. Slowly, in a smooth and calculated manner, she uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. "Are you, Daigo?" She asked, deathly quiet, her gaze locked unblinkingly onto him. "Because I, unlike your cousin, have granted you the courtesy of coming into my home with your men, armed, with easy access to your phone. And yet, you're still standing in front of me with that _look_ in your eyes."

Though there was still the sound of muffled conversations, music, and the occasional splash from the pool behind them, everyone standing under that pergola had gone completely silent. Daigo's eyes widened slightly, perhaps surprised at the way Usagi held herself. She exuded a specific aura of power that was mesmerizing, but also terrifying.

"Kumicho Tsukino," Daigo began, and the contrite tone in his voice rang a bit truer this time. "I am deeply saddened by the acts committed by my cousin against you and your family. Truly."

Kunzite leaned forward, an angry scowl contorting his features, but Usagi leaned back. Seemingly contemplating his words. "I'm not a fool, Daigo," she snapped. "I've known from the very beginning how the prestigious families of the Yakuza marginalize women. I know that every single one of you looks down your nose at the dirty, little Tsukino rat that dared to defy your standards."

Mamoru's breath caught in his throat, because, despite what she'd done as the ruthless Tumicho Tsukino, there was a strength inside of her; the same kind she exuded when standing, locked-knees, proud stance as she'd faced her enemies with fierce defiance. That was the tone laced into her words now, and though it was being misused, it was breathtaking all the same.

The confident air around Daigo was waning, and his face paled, "Kumicho Tsukino, I meant no disrespect-"

Usagi lifted a hand, flicking her wrist, promptly interrupting him. "I know why you're here, Akiyama-san, and it has nothing to do with respect," she snapped angrily, vehemently. " _You're afraid_."

The look on Daigo's face was a reflection of Usagi's words. He was _definitely_ afraid, but that wasn't what caused his breath to catch in his throat, and his heart to skip a beat with hope. It was the slight hitch in Usagi's tone, the flash of self-realization and remorse that appeared briefly in her eyes as those final words had spilled from her lips.

Daigo seemed to be considering her words, and he wisely chose to concede this subtle power play to Usagi. "Tsukino-san, I'm not going to lie to you. I loved my cousin," he admitted, and his face was etched with an unfettered look of resigned sorrow.

Mamoru kept his gaze fixed on Usagi's face; breath held in anticipation for her reaction. _Please, Usako. Please still be in there._

She said nothing, lips pursed, brow furrowed in consideration, before she tilted her head forward, an invitation for him to continue.

Daigo exhaled slowly, his perfect posture slumping slightly as he raked his fingers through his hair. "Our family, as you've pointed out, has a certain modicum of … _fear_ when dealing with the Tsukino's," he admitted, ignoring Kunzite's bark of amused laughter. "Which is why we never would have done anything to jeopardize our working relationship," he lifted his hands in supplication, pleading now. "Jadeite acted of his own accord. He was reckless, impulsive, and fancied himself in love with the Priestess that was killed by your family."

Mamoru's heart sank at the sound of Makoto's horrified gasp as she made the connection. His gaze met hers from across the pergola. Her face was devoid of color, eyes wide and filled with horror. Damn. _Get it together, Jupiter._ The others hadn't noticed the way Makoto was trembling with a mixture of agony and rage, but if anyone happened to glance her way…

He did his best to convey the urgent plea through his gaze, and Makoto seemed to have received the message. With a slight nod, she regained control of her emotions, though Mamoru could see through the fake façade easily.

Kunzite laughed again, this time in disbelief as he leaned forward. "Wait, this is all because of that dumb Shinto Priestess from the temple? The one that saw Usagi's face during a shipment exchange?"

Daigo's eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched tightly, but he nodded sharply in affirmation.

Usagi's brows knit into a frown as she craned her neck sideways, eyes fixed onto her brother. "Kunz, you remember the priestess?" She questioned softly, and it was clear to Mamoru that she genuinely didn't remember having killed Rei.

Kunzite chuckled, smiling as if recalling a fond memory, "Yes," he began airily. "I don't know her name. She had black hair, wearing that god awful Miko outfit… Usa, you were the one to pull the trigger. I'm not surprised that you don't remember, though. You'd indulged quite a bit that evening," Kunzite was the only one that was chuckling, relaying the details of Rei's murder as if he were discussing something as casual as sports on a Sunday afternoon.

Makoto was desperately trying to stay composed with the revelation. His stomach was churning painfully at the horrifying implication that Usagi had killed one of her Senshi under the influence of a mind-altering substance, and Usagi… _God._ She was taking it worst of all.

He could have wept with relief at the look of self-loathing and horror that swept across her face. She was _still_ in there, and now she was starting to feel it, too.

Daigo cleared his throat, this time addressing Kunzite, "Yes, well, regardless of Jadeite's actions, I'm here as a representative on behalf of my remaining family members in Kyoto city to plead for leniency. We're not seeking retribution. We only want to resume our previous relationship and put this entire… _ordeal_ behind us," he appealed, though there was a hard edge laced into his tone that instantly put Mamoru on alert.

Though Daigo had gracefully conceded all the power to the Tsukino's, he wasn't weak, either. And he was not going down without a fight.

Kunzite's responding laughter was mocking, cold, as he slowly stood. His eyes bore into Daigo with gleeful anticipation. Mamoru's pulse quickened, and he could feel it. Something was going to happen, and Usagi was going to be in danger again.

His adrenaline picked up and, without thinking about it, he stepped protectively in front of Usagi. He only briefly saw her look of startled confusion in his peripheral vision when Kunzite raised his gun, cocked it, and aimed it at Daigo's head.

The look on Kunzite's face reminded him of the dark, depraved Kunzite he'd faced under Beryl. Except, there was an eager glint in his eyes that made Mamoru's blood run cold. "You're a fool, Akiyama-san," he growled, his lips curled into a manic smile. "There's a reason you fear the Tsukino's, and the only way that you and your men are leaving this house is wrapped in a bloodied sheet to be discarded like the trash that you are."

It happened so quickly; Mamoru barely had time to react. Though Jadeite and his men had appeared to have an aversion to the possession of guns, Daigo and his crew had no such qualms, and they'd come prepared.

One second Kunzite had been the only one armed and ready to fire, and in the next, Daigo and his men, that had strategically and discreetly circled behind them during their conversation, pulled out their guns and aimed them squarely at Usagi.

Mamoru involuntarily cursed because, _of course,_ she'd be their target. He'd already forgotten about the weapon in his pocket, and he decided, instead, to go on the defensive. Opting, as he had before, to shield Usagi with his body. She gasped as he hauled her out of her seat, roughly pushing her behind him.

"Makoto," he hissed through his teeth, his eyes fixed onto the brutes whose eyes were shining with disbelief. It was clear that they couldn't understand why _anyone_ would want to protect the Usagi in this world. They didn't know her like he did, though. She was a shining ray of hope. She brought people together, and she put the bad guys down. Just like he knew she'd fight through the darkened threads of Kumicho Tsukino in this nightmare, too.

Makoto knew it as well, and in a flash of brown hair and long strides, she stood protectively on the other side of Usagi, between her and Daigo.

Soon there were screams from the bimbos in the pool, and the men that followed the Tsukino's had their guns poised and ready to shoot, too. He scanned the unfolding scene around him with disbelief. Kyodai from both sides, weapons raised, poised and prepared to shoot, seemingly frozen in an honest to god standoff. He took a step back, protectively pressing Usagi more closely into Makoto's back as a tense silence fell over them. If he wasn't so consumed with a mixture of frustration and fear for Usagi's safety, he might have laughed. Because the fact that he was standing in the middle of a circle of loaded guns for the third time in three days, when he'd never held one in his life, was downright hysterical.

He waited, breath held, furiously scanning his surroundings for a way to get them out of here, when Usagi's fingers curled into the fabric at the back of his shirt as she pushed against him before ducking beneath his arm.

"Usako," he hissed, annoyed, reaching for her to pull her back to safety. Despite her heels, she was quick, and she stepped just out of his reach, fully exposed, with a frown on her face.

Kunzite slid his gaze onto her from behind the pointed barrel of his gun. "Get your gun, Usagi," he demanded sharply.

Usagi shook her head. "Lower your weapons," she snapped through gritted teeth, her eyes blazing angrily before stopping on Kunzite. "You too, Kunz."

At first, they didn't listen, Daigo's crew sure it was some kind of trick, and Kunzite too stubborn, insistent on slaking his thirst for blood.

Usagi, though, was the one in charge. "Now!" She roared, frustrated, cheeks tinged pink with irritation before she swiveled around to face Daigo.

Kunzite held the gun poised for a second longer, jaw clenched as an array of emotion crossed his face. With one last look at Usagi, his hand shook, and with a practically feral growl of frustration, he dropped his arm and angrily took his finger off the trigger.

It was like a domino effect after that; every Kyodai, Tsukino, and Akiyama following suit as they lowered their weapons.

Mamoru exhaled with relief; the panic-ridden urgency laced with the need to protect Usagi dulling slowly. Though they'd lowered their guns, the tension was thick, and he could practically taste the array of emotions sizzling in the air between them.

Though the danger had seemingly passed, he was still tempted to reach out and pull Usagi away from Daigo, whose expression was murderous as he glared down at her, lips curled into a sneer, eyes flashing with hatred he no longer felt the need to hide.

Usagi had been forced to play many roles throughout these nightmares, but throughout them all, there had always been a piece of her that he'd managed to appeal to. It was as if the monsters were not able to entirely suppress the brightness that made up everything that she was. In this nightmare, the powerful, tenacious cords of the Moon Senshi were very much present, as was evident by the way she bravely met the hatred in Daigo's gaze with a look of determination shining from her eyes.

 _This_ look was not new to him. He'd seen it hundreds of times throughout their lives together. Apparently, it was new to Kunzite though, because his face was contorted into a mask of fury and confusion as he stared at his sister, whose ruthless role dictated that she should have picked up her gun and fired without a second thought.

He couldn't help the unfurling chords of relief and pride in his chest as he watched Usagi prop her fists onto her hips and boldly face Daigo. "Akiyama-san, I agree to your terms of leniency," she acceded, her voice steady, leaving no room for argument, even though Kunzite practically roared in disapproval beside them.

"Usa, you can't be _serious,"_ he hissed through gritted teeth. "His fucking family broke protocol, cornered you in a room and almost shot you in the face. We've killed people for _much_ less than _that_!" His words were harshly whispered, dripping with venom-filled rage.

Usagi considered Kunzite for a moment, and he was sure that she was going to give in to the ruthless Tumicho Tsukino. Her men seemed to think so, too, as their hands hovered above their weapons in preparation. Then she glanced at him over her shoulder, and for a couple of seconds, he held her stare. It was there. The vulnerability of his Usako. This time, everyone else saw it, too.

She shook her head, cleared her throat, and strengthened her resolve. "Another death as a result of what happened to this priestess would be wasteful, Kunzite," she exclaimed haughtily. "I don't want anyone else to die today."

Daigo frowned, thoroughly confused, and Kunzite's face reddened with unrestrained disbelief and rage. "What?!" He roared, waving his gun dangerously. "Do you _even_ hear yourself! How c—"

"I've already decided!" Usagi roared, and the silence that ensued her outburst was deafening.

Mamoru clenched his fingers into fists, feeling nervous again because even though it appeared that Kunzite had momentarily conceded, there was a look glinting in his eyes. An indication that he was not going to let go of Usagi's defiance that easily.

Usagi turned back towards Daigo, her posture tense as she met his gaze. "Well, Akiyama-san? Do you accept? Or, would you like it better if we raised our guns and started killing each other?" She snapped, and this time, her voice broke with emotion.

The tension melted from Daigo's shoulders, and a wisp of a smile lifted the corners of his lips, though his eyes still shone with distrust and hatred. "We accept, Kumicho Tsukino," he agreed, bowing his head with an exaggerated flourish.

Usagi nodded curtly, "Yuuki," she called without taking her eyes off of Daigo. Yuuki stepped forward, his brow knitted in confusion just like the others. "Please show our guests out."

Yuuki didn't hesitate, and neither did Daigo or his men. Though Daigo's eyes lingered on Usagi for a moment, laced with curiosity as he passed.

The moment Daigo and his men exited the way that they'd come, the tension mostly dissipated, for the Kyodai anyway, a couple of whom would have more than likely forfeited their lives in that exchange.

He heard Makoto exhale slowly, and he furtively glanced in her direction. She was still tense, lips pressed tightly into a thin, grim line, fists clenched and pressed into her thighs. She was _not_ handling this well, and though she was stoically pushing through, Mamoru could tell that she was teetering on the edge of emotional exhaustion. He knew this because he'd been there, too.

Usagi turned towards them, and she purposefully sought out his gaze. His breath caught in his throat because the emotion in her eyes was so tangibly _evident._ His Usako was so close to the surface, _he could feel it._

She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by Kunzite who couldn't hold it in anymore. "Usagi," he bellowed. "What the _fuck_ was that?" he demanded furiously, barreling towards her. "Do you know how weak you look _now?_ And all because of a fucking inconsequential priestess?" He leaned forward and roughly gripped her arm.

Mamoru saw red when Usagi inhaled sharply on a startled, pained breath and he lifted his hand, stepped towards them, ready to rip Kunzite's damn arm _off_. But he wasn't needed. Before he could intervene, Usagi pried her fingers underneath Kunzites. Then, with a sharp, jerking twist, she wrenched his hand backward.

Kunzite gasped in pain, and Mamoru automatically cringed when a loud popping sound followed Usagi's movements. "The only weak person here," she hissed, eyes narrowed angrily on Kunzite's face, "is you, dear brother, and your inability to _think_ before you act."

When she let him go, he stepped back, cradling his wrist in his other hand, his expression almost tortured as he openly gaped at her in disbelief. His wounded expression faded just as quickly as it appeared, and a cold, calculating smile slid onto his face.

He chuckled darkly and shook his head. "I don't know what's gotten into you, Usa, but I know who you are," he promised, and the tone in his words chilled Mamoru. "Did you know that you giggled when you pressed the barrel of your gun onto the priestess's forehead?" he whispered; his tone eerily calm as he steadily held Usagi's gaze.

Makoto whimpered beside him, and though she'd pressed her fingers to her lips to muffle the sound, they'd all heard it. Fuck. He needed to do _something._ Makoto wobbled, and she was on the verge of losing it. Though he kept his gaze fixed onto Usagi and Kunzite, he reached out discreetly and grasped Makoto's wrist, squeezing in an attempt to reassure her.

Kunzite's brow furrowed as his gaze flicked between them and Usagi before his expression smoothed, and a knowing look that filled him with dread fell onto his face. "It's true you know," he laughed dryly. "Should I remind you sister, how she begged for her life? And how you laughed in her face, told her everything was going to be okay, right before you pulled the trigger?"

Makoto choked on a sob, and her knees buckled at the cruelty laced into Kunzite's words. He wished that Makoto had taken a moment to glance over at Usagi, whose expression was filled with horror, pale-faced, as she shook her head in disbelief. If Usagi had killed Rei, she definitely did not remember it.

Makoto was incapable of seeing beyond Kunzite's purposefully cruel words, though, and he wished that he could remind her that this was a nightmare. It wasn't real, and Rei was fine. Well, as fine as she _could_ be, strapped down in a lab with the rest of them.

She was beyond that now, though, and he was focusing solely on damage control as he grasped her by the waist to steady her. Usagi twisted around in time to see Makoto curled into his side, face buried in her hands as he attempted to quietly, as subtle as this moment would allow, comfort her.

His heart sank, and he inwardly cursed as he watched the devastation melt away from Usagi's expression at the sight of them, to be replaced with startled confusion before finally settling into that damn hardened look of hers. The cold, angry one that he hated with every fiber of his being.

Her lips curled into a sneer as her eyes flicked back and forth between him and Makoto. "I don't remember killing the priestess, but that sounds like something I would do," she snapped angrily, and he wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her. She glanced over at Kunzite; her expression cold. "I did the right thing today, brother, and it had nothing to do with the stupid Priestess _or_ Jadeite's idiocy in falling in love with her." No! _She was lying._ It was clear that there was more than one personality trait that had followed Usagi to this nightmare. Though her ridiculous tendency to get jealous was _much_ more dangerous here.

Makoto had regained control of her emotions, and her cheeks tinged red as she stepped away from him. Her bottom lip quivered a little, though her eyes had filled with renewed determination.

His Usako had retreated once again as Kumicho Tsukino roared back to life and she coldly swept her gaze over Makoto in disgust. "If I'd known that saving your lovers' life would turn my invaluable, stone-cold killer into a blubbering mass of weakness, I would have let him die," Usagi sneered icily.

Makoto's eyes widened, startled because _of course_ that would have never occurred to the loyal Senshi of Jupiter. "Usagi, you're way—"

Usagi didn't let her finish her sentence before she took two strides forward to close the gap between her and Makoto. Usagi was short. Much shorter than Makoto. But with those ridiculous heels, she easily matched her height.

Her eyes were hardened, filled with bitterness as she fixed them steadily onto Makoto. "Be careful, _Mako-chan,_ " She sneered frostily, uttering her name in a twisted, mocking tone. "I would hate it if you were suddenly no longer valuable to me."

It was the last thing she said before she swept past them in a flurry of blonde hair, her heels clicking loudly along the stones as she disappeared into the manor. It was only when she was gone that he snapped out of his tongue-tied daze. Damn! What the hell had he been thinking? He should have said something; called out to her before he let her walk away, once again the ruthless, stone-cold gangster.

Kunzite chuckled coldly, and Mamoru's jaw clenched, disappointed rage simmering just below the surface when his angry cobalt blue stare collided with his former general's icy-blue gaze that was smugly fixed onto his face. "Now _that_ was my sister," he breathed, his tone firm and confident.

The Kunzite of this nightmare had done and said several bone-chilling things. That, though, was by _far_ the most terrifying thing he'd said.

 **oOo**

He was never going to fall asleep. In fact, he never wanted to close his eyes again because if he did, he might be forced to relive the god-awful moments from this afternoon.

Mamoru exhaled miserably into the darkness of his borrowed room and angrily twisted onto his side, punching his pillow in the process. It was like one step forward and two steps back in this Goddamn nightmare. At this rate, they'd be trapped here for _decades._

He hadn't seen Usagi again since the moment she'd angrily swept past him on the veranda. The rest of the day had been torturous, a strange mixture of tension and anticipation throughout the Kyodai who'd witnessed Usagi's peculiar behavior and were regarding him wearily.

It was definitely nerve-wracking, and he felt like he was treading a dangerously thin line. Makoto, though seemingly more composed after that horrible encounter, was still unlike herself, afraid of some kind of retribution from Usagi.

His jealous Usako, in the real world, was mildly annoying; endearing almost. But a jealous-filled Tumicho Tsukino, vengeful, angry, gun-wielding… well, that did not bode well for Makoto at the moment. Though the fact that she'd exhibited jealousy must mean that she felt _something_ for him.

A sharp rap on his door tore him out of his thoughts, and he inwardly groaned, pulling himself up and off the bed as he stumbled through the darkness to get dressed. _What now?_

This world was nothing if not unpredictable, and he honestly had no idea who was on the other side of the door at this point. Though, he doubted it was Kunzite as he didn't peg the silver-haired general as the knocking type. And after today, he didn't think it was Usagi standing on the other side of the door this late. Which really only left…

"Makoto?" he breathed, brow furrowed in confusion as he pulled the door open and was greeted by the brunette who wore a determined expression on her face. "What are you doing here?"

She exhaled slowly, miserably, then shook her head. "I'm leaving for a couple of days," she responded, her tone tinged with dread. "We think we've found Asahi. I've been sent, with another Kyodai, to retrieve him." His frown deepened, and his heart skipped a painful beat because he knew that this role was hard for Makoto.

He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. "Can you stall? I'll do my best to make some progress while you're gone," he replied, though he grimaced with uncertainty. "Although, after today, I'm not holding my breath for any kind of quick fix."

Makoto let out a derisive bark of laughter that startled him, and his brow furrowed in confusion. "Well, I think you're about to get blue in the face, Mamoru. Because I didn't just come here to say goodbye," she exclaimed, a half-smirk on her lips, her arms folded and an amused glint in her eyes. "Usagi has summoned you."

His frown only deepened, his hand poised on the door, as he carefully studied Makoto's expression. Why would Usagi be _summoning_ him at this time of night? Was there some kind of covert, late-night shipment exchange that she wanted him to go to?

He slowly shook his head, still not comprehending the reason for Makoto's tone of voice. "Okay…" he trailed off on a bewildered exhale of breath. "Where is she?"

Once again, Makoto laughed, which, in all honesty, was starting to grate on his nerves. "Mamoru," she said with emphasis, brows raised in amused disbelief. "She's summoned you to her room."

It took a moment before Makoto's expression and words finally registered. His eyes widened, startled, a dull heat creeping up his neck; reddening his cheeks and the tips of his ears. _Usagi was summoning him to her room for…._ "You can't be serious!" he sputtered in disbelief, effectively widening the smile on Makoto's face.

She shrugged, nodding curtly before swiveling around, "Dead serious," she murmured as she began to move down the hall, leaving Mamoru to scramble after her.

Usagi had never been shy about that kind of thing. In fact, _he'd_ always been the more careful one; infinitely reserved, painfully reticent when it came to physical intimacy; a vision of Usako giggling with a suggestive wiggle of her brow as she teasingly dubbed him a prude flashed through his mind. _Still…_ this _was_ pretty bold. Even for Usagi.

He grimaced uncomfortably as he fell into step beside Makoto, red-faced, hands buried in his pockets. He supposed that he wasn't dealing with Usagi right now though, was he? This summons had been a prompt from Tumicho Tsukino, and this was _precisely_ something the ruthless, impulsive gangster would demand.

He was barely paying attention to the hallway they were navigating, Makoto guiding him to Usagi's room when he furtively glanced sideways at the brunette. Her expression was hardened but unreadable as they continued moving forward. _Damn._ This was so uncomfortable. He hoped that when all of this was finally over, Makoto wouldn't remember this particular moment.

They stopped suddenly, in front of double-wide, white painted doors, and his breath hitched; a mixture of trepidation, because he had no idea what was really waiting for him, and anticipation because, well, he couldn't help but want to see her. No matter what state of mind that she was in.

His eyes were fixed onto the door in quiet contemplation, so it startled him when Makoto grasped his arm. He craned his neck to peer down into her eyes. Which were now wide and filled with guilt.

She took a deep breath, shifting from one foot to the other nervously. "Mamoru, I'm so sorry about what happened earlier," she murmured apologetically. "I shouldn't have lost it like that. I just want you to know…" she cleared her throat before continuing. "I'm not going to falter again. We need to save her."

His expression softened with understanding, and he couldn't help but feel relieved at the determined, conviction filled expression that was much more like the loyal, unwavering Senshi he knew. "It's okay," he assured with a gentle smile. "We're going to get out of this."

She nodded, reassured and determined, before glancing at the closed door. Her cheeks tinged pink, and she coughed uncomfortably. "Well, um, good luck?"

He grimaced, his face burning hotly, and Makoto chuckled at his expression. It was the lightest that he'd seen her since this nightmare had begun, so he let go of his embarrassment for a moment and managed to shrug with a smirk. "I don't need luck," he replied confidently.

Makoto choked, her nose wrinkling with a shake of her head. "That is my cue to leave," she shuddered, though her smile was sincere when she squeezed his arm one last time before twirling around and striding down the hall. Her gait confident and filled with purpose, the heels of her green leather boots clicking loudly on the hardwood floors.

Mamoru took a deep breath, leaned forward, twisted the brass handle embossed with an intricate flower design, and pushed the door open. It was soundless as it swept across the floor, and his pulse quickened as he stepped over the threshold.

The room was dimly lit, vintage brass lamps fixed into the walls with rose shaped glass coverings. It was easily three times larger than the room he'd been appointed; lavishly decorated, sleek white furniture and a large California king sized bed pressed up against the wall.

He was sure that when this room had been designed, the bed was meant to have been the focal point; four-posters, lace and silk organza draped across them. It wasn't, though, because the most beautiful thing amidst the luxury in this room was, hands down, Usagi.

She was perched like a seductive porcelain doll on a vanity chair, running the bristles of a brush through the long, silken locks of her hair that tumbled around her shoulders like a curtain of glistening, liquid sunshine as she peered into a mirror.

In the back of his mind, it occurred to him that she'd probably purposefully positioned herself that way, her body twisted to the side, long, naked legs curled beneath her, calf muscles flexed from the strain of yet another pair of blood-red stiletto heels.

His heart skipped a beat, his breath hitched in his throat as his gaze traveled up the perfection of her legs to the hardened planes of her bared abdomen, the sloping curves of her semi-naked body, and the taut perfection that was sitting, in lacy red underwear with a matching bra, in unashamed glory.

He knew he was done the moment that her china-blue eyes met his in the reflection of the mirror. They were smoldering with a bold promise that sent the blood rushing from his face to _other_ extremities, and he bit back a groan even as his fingers flexed, itching to touch her.

Her lips quirked up into a provocative smile. "Good, you came."

He swallowed, and it took a moment to respond. "Did I have a choice?" He croaked on a ragged breath of air.

Her smile faded slightly, and a slight crease appeared on her forehead as her hand froze mid-brush stroke. "Do you want to leave?"

He didn't even have to think about it. "No," he responded simply, vehemently.

She laughed, a low, sultry practiced sound that sent goosebumps rolling down his spine. Slowly, she lowered her hand, placed the brush onto the glass surface of her vanity. Then in one fluid motion, she uncurled her lithe form and gracefully stood to face him.

He stood frozen, slack-jawed as she approached. She was as graceful as a panther stalking its prey, and, with great difficulty, he swallowed, licking his lips because he was suddenly parched, desperate to drink her up.

Common sense and rational thought disappeared like a wisp of smoke when she closed the gap between them, leaned forward, and tantalizingly swept the tips of her fingers along his jawline, pressing them onto his lips while her other hand crept beneath the bottom seam of his shirt, palm flat, hotly trailing across the tightening muscled curve of his abdomen.

He couldn't help the groan that tangled on his tongue and spilled from his lips when she leaned forward, her hair tickling the side of his face, and pressed her lips onto the shell of his ear. "Close the door, Mamoru," she demanded on a breathy whisper and nipped his earlobe.

He didn't have to think about it. His hand shot out, grasped the edge, and swung it shut with a resounding slam that echoed loudly around them.

She pulled back with a victorious giggle, curled slender fingers into the fabric of his shirt and forcefully yanked him forward. It caught him off guard, and he stumbled slightly, his body colliding into hers, and he just had time to steady himself when her lips assaulted his.

They molded and moved with a heated, practiced ferocity that drove him insane. Then he was lost in a haze of lust and need as her arms curled around his neck, fingers raking through his hair at the back of his head. Somehow, she managed to twist them around, lips still locked as she guided him to her bed.

When the back of his calves collided with the foot of her bed, she pulled away with a wet, pop of her lips. He barely had time to catch his breath before she leaned forward with a sensuous smirk, pressed her palms onto his chest, and forcibly pushed him back onto the bed.

He inhaled sharply as he fell onto the plush surface of her mattress, bracing himself on his elbows as, wide-eyed, he peered up at her standing above him _._ She was a sultry goddess of perfection.

One moment he was staring up at her, breathless with need, and the next she'd straddled him, her knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his hips. "Christ, Usako," he choked on a ragged breath and her smile widened with well-earned arrogance.

She was in total control as she pushed him back into the mattress with palms flat on his chest. Slowly, she leaned forward, grinding against him in a way that made him hiss through his teeth; the friction unbearable, even through the fabric of his jeans. His hands settled on the curve of her hips, and she laughed, her breath fanning warmly across his face as she trailed her hand slowly down the length of his arm, pried his hand from her waist, and interlaced her fingers with his.

His vision blurred, breathing quickened, as she took control, guiding his hand to slide tantalizingly along the trembling skin of her abdomen, gliding upward, until his palm was cupping the lace covered weight of her breast that fit perfectly in his palm.

She moaned, her fingers still intertwined with his as they kneaded, her nipple hardening through the thin material of her bra, straining against his skin.

It was too much, and he was ten seconds away from grasping her waist, tossing her onto the bed and ravishing her, when her smile twisted into a self-satisfying smirk that pierced through the lust-filled fog of his brain. "Do you like this, Mamoru?" She whispered with another twist of her hips. "I'm much better than Makoto."

Those words were like she'd poured a bucket of ice-cold water over his head, and he inhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing as it registered, finally, what this was about.

This wasn't Usagi. This seductive, alluring creature currently grinding into him was Tumicho Tsukino, and this had nothing to do with how she felt for him, and everything to do with wanting something she thought belonged to someone else. His stomach churned miserably because it occurred to him that there was a reason she'd sent Makoto to bring him to her room.

There was nothing between him and Makoto. Not romantically. But _she_ didn't know _that_. And, Christ. The Makoto of this world was _supposed_ to be her _friend_.

It disgusted and infuriated him. There was no way he was going to play this game with Tumicho Tsukino. He didn't give a damn how enticingly sexy she was like this. He wanted _Usako._

With a sharply whispered expletive, he ripped his hand away from hers, grasped her by the waist and, as gently as possible, tossed her off of him; quickly scrambling off of the bed.

She gasped, eyes wide and filled with indignant confusion as she stared up at him from the middle of the bed. "What the hell?" she hissed and her fingers clenching into fists.

His eyes hardened, and his hands shook as he took a step back. "I don't want this," he spat with unfettered disdain.

It was as if he'd struck her, her eyes wide, lips parted in shock. " _What?!"_ she snarled. "You're rejecting _me?"_

He stopped for a second because he wasn't sure if this was going to make things worse or better for him, but he knew, without a doubt, that he couldn't sleep with her like this. "I'm not interested in the cruel, cold-hearted Tumicho Tsukino," he responded coldly.

With a gasp of rage, she scrambled from the bed, still managing to remain graceful in those dumb, un-Usagi-like heels, as she stalked towards him, angrily tossing her hair over her shoulder. "You son of a bitch," she raged. "You want me! I _know_ you do! I've _seen_ the way you look at me!"

She lifted her fists, propelling them forward to strike him, but he caught and restrained them easily, holding them above her head. "I don't want you like this," he whispered, his face inches from hers, their gazes burning hotly into each other. "I've already told you, _Tumicho Tsukino._ Cruelty is not an attractive quality."

His words struck home, and her eyes widened as she stopped struggling. "It's who I am, Mamoru," she whispered, but there was confusion layered beneath her tone. It broke him to pieces. He couldn't stand to see her this way.

He took a deep, pained breath. He was prepared to deal with the consequences of this decision, and he'd do whatever it took to break through the roughly woven threads of Tumicho Tsukino. "If that's what you really think," he began, moving his face closer to hers, their gazes locked, her short puffs of breath weaving with his. "Then you're more lost than I thought."

He couldn't stand to see the haughty, rage-filled look glistening from behind the eyes of the woman he loved. It was painful, and he needed to get the fuck out of there before he caved and gave her whatever she wanted.

With a sharp, anguish-filled inhale he abruptly let her go, twisted around, yanked the door open and strode with purpose into the hall.

The sound of Usagi's howl of rage as the door slammed behind him rang painfully loud in his ears as he fled to the safe, but lonely, confines of his room.

 **oOo**

Everything ached as he trudged back to his room for the night. Three miserably long days ago, he'd walked out on a scantily dressed, infinitely tempting Usagi. Since then, he'd quickly learned that this ruthless version of her did not take rejection well.

Mamoru sighed; the despondent sound unintentionally loud as it resonated in the hallway. He twisted the handle of his room and stepped over the threshold into the darkened interior, slamming it shut behind him. She'd been purposely ignoring him, her eyes blazing with red hot rage every time their gazes happened to meet. Tumicho Tsukino had been in her element; her mood foul, and her behavior towards _everyone_ practically unbearable.

To Mamoru, it was easy to see the petulance for what it was. She was sulking just like his adorable, pink-cheeked, pouty-faced Usako might have done back in the real world at the very beginning of their relationship. The difference was that Usagi's insecurities as the sweet, loving Moon Senshi manifested _very_ differently with the forced staples of the cold personality embedded into her here. So, the resulting tension in the house had been unbearably thick, and the Kyodai scattered like mice as her temper tantrum stretched from one day into two.

With a groan of unfettered frustration, Mamoru fell onto the bed, crumpled sheets bunching up beneath him as he angrily twisted onto his back to fix a glare onto a crack in the plaster of the ceiling.

He had no way of knowing if this was the right decision, and he felt further away from his goal than ever. His lips curled up into a bitter smirk because, despite her blatantly icy attitude, she'd been insistent that he was to remain a part of her entourage. Diligently tasked to follow her around with the other obedient Kyodai only to witness her childish outbursts of anger. From the way she'd snarled at the serving girl at breakfast whose hand shook as she'd poured her tea, accidentally spilling some over the rim. Or to the Shatei by the pool that she'd furiously dismissed because he happened to be blocking the sun.

Every single time, she'd glanced back at him with a haughty expression fixed onto her face, daring him to say something. Of course, his responding stare of disapproval only seemed to infuriate her even more, and he'd been tasked to a day of manual labor, moving impossibly heavy crates in a musty warehouse, whose contents he didn't dare contemplate.

At this rate, because he'd apparently been stupid enough to push her away, they were probably all going to end up as a permanent fixture in this nightmare.

After dropping the painfully heavy edge of a crate onto his foot, _once again,_ he'd seriously started to reconsider his decision not to give in to her, when he'd caught the eye of another one of the Tsukino's underlings wrangled into manual labor.

The tattooed, tawny-haired man had stopped, smirking as he casually leaned back onto the crate he'd been moving. "So, you're the reason that Tumicho Tsukino's on a rampage," he'd chortled, eliciting an annoyed scowl from Mamoru.

He'd rolled his eyes, turned away, and promptly ignored him. As a general rule, Mamoru had purposely distanced himself from the others. He was not willing to get distracted from his ultimate goal to get them out of here by associating with people that may, or may not, truly exist.

The Shatei's amused chuckle pierced the air around them, and Mamoru's posture tensed as the man, incapable of deciphering his silent message to leave him alone, had followed him to the remaining stacks of boxes.

"You must have really done something to get under her skin. She's weaker than usual. What's your secret?" he'd drawled, and Mamoru's eyes narrowed, confused, as he'd twisted around to face the smug-faced thug.

He probably should have ignored him but, admittedly, he'd hit a wall, toppling close to the edge of despair with how to proceed, and he was confused by the man's statement. _Weaker than usual?_

"What are you talking about?" Mamoru demanded through gritted teeth.

He shrugged. "Well, I don't know what you've heard about Tumicho Tsukino," he began, leaning towards him, smirk curled smugly on his lips. "I know you haven't been here long, but I sure as hell know that she wouldn't have given it a second thought before shooting someone who'd dared to block _her_ sun before you got here." Mamoru's frown had deepened, startled into silence by his words. "In fact, I've had to scrub the blood off the floor from more than one poor dead sap for that very reason. She hasn't been carrying her gun around, either. Have you noticed?"

Mamoru's jaw had remained clenched, his expression unreadable, and he refused to respond to the Shatei as he'd turned back to the task at hand.

The Shatei had chuckled and moved away, Mamoru's silence answer enough, apparently, and his heart began to race as he'd considered the underling's words. Because it was true. Usagi's tantrum had been decidedly more petulant, and significantly less cruel.

Hope flared, unbidden, in his chest, and later on, as he'd stood in the circle of Kyodai on the deck by Usagi lounging by the pool, he'd carefully studied her.

She hadn't bothered to glance his way from the moment he arrived, and he tried not to let that discourage him as he inwardly clung onto the warehouse grunt workers words that played through his mind in a continuous loop. _She hasn't been carrying her gun around, either. Have you noticed?_

He'd kept his gaze fixed onto her lithe form, dressed in yet another jaw-dropping, shudder-inducing bathing suit, silently willing her to look over at him, if only for a second when Kunzite sauntered onto the veranda. He was staggering, followed by two giggling brunettes, a smug smirk curled onto his lips and a slightly crazed glint flashing icily in his eyes.

Mamoru had instantly tensed, the hairs on the back of his neck rising forebodingly as he'd watched the silver-haired general approach her. "Usa!" He'd exclaimed, chuckling darkly in a way that made Mamoru clench his fists to keep from protectively reaching for her. "What are you doing? I need you!"

Golden brows arched coolly as Usagi peered over the top of sleek, black designer framed sunglasses, her gaze sweeping over her brother in mild irritation. "What do you want, Kunz?" She'd snapped, her tone tinged with the same, annoyed edge that it had been since he'd left her room three nights ago. "I'm not in the mood."

Kunzite's expression darkened dangerously for a moment, and Mamoru didn't miss the way his eyes briefly flicked over to him. It was fleeting, and his smirk, though contrived, widened before he chuckled. "Oh, dearest sister of mine," he'd chided, his tone soft and teasing. "You're in a slump, and I know _just_ what you need to do to fix that."

Usagi snorted, adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose before settling back into the lounger. "I'm not in a slump," she'd muttered under her breath, her tone churlish. "I'm fine right where I am, Kunzite. Leave me alone."

Kunzite visibly gritted his teeth, attempting to remain composed, though his smile was clearly forced now. " _Regardless,_ slump or not, I think you just need to have a good time, Usa," he'd drawled, leaning forward with a smile that made Mamoru's pulse quicken with dread. "Why don't you have a drink, maybe pop a pill, and we can call Aki to entertain you for the night."

It took a moment for Kunzite's suggestion to register, and Mamoru inhaled sharply, a mixture of disgust and possessive jealousy unfurling uncomfortably in his chest. He was relatively sure that he could handle most of the distasteful things Usagi was being forced to do as Tumicho Tsukino; it wasn't her fault, after all. But the thought of watching her with someone else, while standing obediently by her side... _he couldn't stomach it_.

He'd been contemplating how the hell he was going to fix the backlash of what he was inevitably going to do if someone so much as _attempted_ to touch her like _that_ when Usagi's sharply uttered reply interrupted his thoughts.

"No."

Kunzite was taken aback, eyes narrowed in confusion as he'd clearly anticipated a different reaction. "What? Would you prefer someone else, then? Ezume is a new Kyodai, not usually your type, but maybe you need to branch out. I can always ca—"

"No, Kunz," she'd snapped sharply. "I'm not _interested."_

Still, Kunzite shook his head, choking on a bark of disbelieving laughter with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Come on, Usa," he'd chided, "you're being ridiculous now. _Trust me._ This is what you need. You've—"

Usagi, tense and angry, had jolted up into a sitting position. "I fucking said _no,_ Kunzite. What is so difficult to _understand?_ " she'd practically snarled, her tone filled with fury-tinged irritation. "I'm _not_ interested."

Her forceful rejection of Kunzite's offer should have been enough, and his former general should have had the good sense to accept it, get up, and _walk away._ This was a nightmare, though, and Kunzite was an arrogant asshole here.

Instead, the cold blue pools of his eyes had filled with seething rage, the muscles in the silver-haired Generals neck tightening with fury as he'd furiously leaned forward and grasped his sister by her shoulders. "I'm getting really _fucking_ tired of whatever the _fuck_ it is that's going on with you, _Usagi_ ," he'd hissed, his eyes fixed icily onto her face.

The others around the pool had gone entirely silent. Kunzite's bimbos and the other Kyodai exchanged looks of uncertainty, clearly not accustomed to seeing the siblings clash of wills.

The flash of red-hot rage that coursed through Mamoru was inexplicable, and his vision blurred as, without thinking, he stepped towards the pair. "Let her go," he'd growled, gripping the collar of Kunzite's shirt as he'd violently yanked him back.

It caught Kunzite off guard, and the general was clearly under the influence of some kind of mind-altering substance, so it didn't take much for him to release Usagi and stumble to the ground.

There was a cacophony of gasps as Kunzite scrambled clumsily to his feet, his gaze wild with fury. "I'm going to fucking kill you, you little—"

Mamoru's eyes were fixed onto Kunzite's face, his stance stiff, poised and ready to defend himself, when the general suddenly doubled over, gasping for breath as he sank to his knees.

Mamoru's eyes drew together into a puzzled frown as his gaze flicked down to Usagi, who had, at some point during his altercation with Kunzite, shot out of her seat. She was like a tiny, blonde-haired hellcat; red-faced, muscles coiled tightly, as the china-blue hues in her eyes flashed dangerously between him and Kunzite.

Her fingers were curled into the fist that she'd just fiercely thrust into her brother's abdomen. "Sober up, Kunzite," she hissed, glaring down at him as he'd clutched at his middle, sucking in sharp, pained breaths of air through his teeth.

Mamoru couldn't help the satisfied smirk that curled onto his lips at the sight. His amusement was short-lived, though, because Usagi swiveled around, turning the full brunt of her rage onto him. "And you!" she'd bellowed angrily. "I should _kill_ you for that." The sneer that curled onto her lips and the icy glint flashing through her eyes managed to deflate him a little, but she _was_ different _._ This wasn't just Tumicho Tsukino anymore. If it was, not only would she have gladly accepted Kunzite's disgusting proposition to 'let loose,' but he'd probably already be dead.

It was a risk, he knew it was, but he didn't back down. Steadily meeting her gaze, a knowing smile curled onto his lips. "Do it then, Usako," he'd prodded softly.

Her eyes widened, lips parted in shock as he took another step towards her, lessening the gap between them. "What?" She choked on a ragged breath of air.

He was so close that they were practically touching. All he had to do was lower his face by an inch, and he'd be able to press his lips onto hers. "Take out your gun and kill me."

It was a challenge that Tumicho Tsukino —the snarling, hard-eyed blonde that had callously shot a cop the first time he'd met her here— would have _never_ backed down from. She would have pulled out the weapon strapped _somewhere_ on the luscious curves of her body, pressed it to his head and pulled the trigger without a second thought.

This wasn't Tumicho Tsukino anymore, though, and he knew the exact moment that she realized it. It flashed in her eyes, the vulnerability that was his Usako, and, damn, he'd nearly cheered victoriously. Because she didn't have her gun. And even if she did, she wasn't the ruthless, cold-hearted monster that she'd been a mere five days ago.

Of course, it wasn't that easy. It was _never_ that easy, and Usagi's expression darkened angrily as she tilted her chin up to boldly meet his gaze. "You're not dead right now because you saved my life," she began, her tone deathly calm. "We're even now, Chiba, and you are free to remain here as a Shatei. But it's at your own risk because I don't want to see you again. I'll kill you the next time I do."

The genuine sincerity laced into those words before she'd swept by him and back into the house had been confusing as hell. Because hadn't he been certain, only seconds before, that he was making progress?

He'd effectively been dismissed, and now he needed to figure out how the hell he was going to get close to her again. Which was why he was currently lying in the dark, scowling up at the ceiling, defeated and frustrated, because he had no clue what he was going to do next.

He'd just closed his eyes, beginning to drift off into a restless sleep, when there was a sharp knock on his door.

His eyes flew open, and he blinked into the darkness, his brow creasing into a confused frown. He propped himself onto his elbows, gaze narrowed onto the door, sure he'd imagined it when another knock resonated through the darkness of his room.

His first thought was that Makoto had returned from tracking down Asahi and Kaito, and he grimaced, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and nervously raking his fingers through his hair. Damn. How was he going to explain this set back to Makoto, who was eager to get the hell out of here?

The apologetic words of reassurance were forming on the tip of his tongue as he strode to the door and quickly pulled it open.

The words promptly died on his lips as he stared, wide-eyed, and slack-jawed in shock. Because it wasn't Makoto standing at his door; green eyes flashing with determination, fists propped impatiently on her hips. It was _Usagi._

He blinked twice, sure that he was seeing things as his gaze swept over her. This was not the polished, confident Usagi that had been present in this nightmare up until this point. The girl on the other side of his door was closer to _his_ Usako. The picture of vulnerable perfection; lower lip poised nervously between her teeth, wearing a silky white robe that cinched tightly at her waist, and her hair pulled back into a hastily crafted ponytail, curled, flyaway tendrils of hair haphazardly framing her heart-shaped face.

His pulse quickened, and he forcibly cleared his throat. "Usako? What are you doing here?" It was the first question that popped into his head. Because he'd spent the last forty-five minutes miserably going over every single one of his mistakes since waking up here, and in every single one of his half-formulated plans, _none of them_ had involved her coming to him.

Hopeful anticipation urged his heart to beat at an impossibly quickened pace as her eyes flicked up to his before they suddenly narrowed angrily, and her shoulders stiffened as a red-tinged blush swept across the angled curves of her cheekbones.

With a gargled groan of irritation, she shoved past him, nearly knocking him over in the process. He noted that she was still sporting a pair of un-Usagi-like, ridiculously impractical stiletto heels as she halted, gracefully swirled around to face him; her eyes flashing furiously in the middle of the plain, dimly-lit room.

Bewildered, eyes fixed onto her face, he slowly shut the door behind her. The room darkened even more without the sliver of fluorescent light from the hallway, and he forcibly swallowed because, despite the anger that was flashing in her eyes, she was a vision of beauty.

She stood, framed by the moonlight pouring in through the lone window in his room, her slender form bathed in its soft glow. At that moment, she was every inch the ethereal Moon Princess he loved so much, and it made his heart ache with longing.

She took a deep breath, propped her fists onto her hips as she boldly faced him. "Why do you _keep_ calling me that?" she demanded, her tone crisp, desperate almost. "And what do you mean _what are you doing here?"_ She growled, stalking towards him, poking him in the chest with a trembling, raised index finger. "I'm _the boss!"_ Her tone was frenzied, and it sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than him. "I can go _wherever_ I want!" She exclaimed, but her voice shook, and her lower lip quivered as she angrily closed the distance between them.

His breath hitched in his throat as he peered down at her, the painful mixture of confusion and anger visible in the contours of her face tugged at his heartstrings. _God._ She was so beautiful, and so much like _his_ Usako again.

She wasn't done though, and she angrily pressed her palms flat on his chest as if to shove him back, but instead, she curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. Her eyes glistened with agony as she peered up at him through long, lacy black lashes.

"Who are you?" she whispered hoarsely. "How is it possible that everything is _perfect._ It's fucking perfect, Mamoru. And then _you_ sweep in, and all of a sudden, I'm questioning _everything!"_

He inhaled sharply, heart hammering against his ribcage, as he lifted his hands to cradle her face. The second his fingers touched the smooth skin of her cheek, though, her eyes widened, and she roughly pulled away. "No! Damn you, _Mamoru,"_ she hissed as she visibly attempted to blink back the tears that welled in her eyes. "I don't want this," she choked, her hands clutching at the delicate fabric of her robe at her chest. "You're making this so _hard._ I don't want these _feelings,"_ she admitted with an anguished whimper before burying her head in her hands.

This was precisely what he'd wanted. To remind her of the bright, beautiful person that she was, but, fuck. _He loved her,_ and it still hurt to see her struggle like this. He blinked back his own angry set of tears, once again internally vowing to destroy whoever was doing this to her, before he stepped forward and tentatively grasped her wrists. His movements were tender as he gently pulled her hands away from her face.

She looked miserable, the internal struggle between Tumicho Tsukino and Usako tearing her apart inside. "Usako," he whispered, dreading the fact that he needed to push harder, make her delve deeper. _It was the only way to save her._ "What feelings?"

His heart twisted painfully as the tears she'd desperately been trying to hold back fell from her eyes, sliding listlessly down her cheeks. At first, he didn't think she was going to answer him, and he held his breath as his grip tightened around her wrists, and he pulled her closer, tenderly cradling her hands against his chest.

Was it possible that he'd succeeded already? Was she ready to admit that she loved him? Because he knew that she did. It was etched into every piece of her that had unknowingly responded to him the minute she'd laid eyes on him in that warehouse.

She visibly swallowed and clenched her eyes shut for a moment as if to block out the pain. "Remorse, Mamoru," she whispered on a tormented, harshly croaked breath before her tear-filled stare met this. "Guilt is agonizing, and before you…" she choked, unable to finish that sentence. "Do you _know_ what I've done?" Her words were laced with self-loathing. "Do you know what I am?"

Rage, unlike anything he'd ever felt before, coursed through him. It momentarily blurred his vision, and his ears began to ring, the metallic taste of the bitterness on his tongue. He knew what she was; perfection, a beacon of hope in the darkest crevices of the entire fucking galaxy. The fact that whoever was doing this to them had made her believe, for even a second, that she was something dark, wracked with guilt-ridden anguish over things she hadn't even done, infuriated him.

His hands shook as he lifted them to cradle her face. This time she didn't pull away as the pads of his thumbs swept away the tears on her cheeks, the tips of his fingers threading through the silken strands of hair at her temples. "I know what you are, Usako," he replied, conviction laced into his words. "I know what you've done, and it doesn't matter." He pressed his lips onto her forehead, and she shuddered in his arms. "Usako, I love you."

He felt her stiffen against him, heard her surprised, sharp inhale of breath as she, once again, pulled away from him. The way her eyes widened with agony-filled confusion as if she couldn't understand how that was even possible, tore him into shreds.

It broke his heart to watch her step back, shrinking away from him. " _What?_ " she choked, clutching the edge of the dresser behind her. "You don't know me, Mamoru. How can you possibly know that there's something worth loving inside of me?" Her expression and words reflected the disbelief at the absurdity of his confession. It was true; if this world were real, and he'd actually just met her, his admission of love would have definitely been said prematurely.

This wasn't real though, she was his soulmate, always had been. Even though she'd been forced to forget, he knew that she could feel it, too. _That_ was evident by the hope-filled glint shining in her eyes as they fixed, almost desperately, onto him.

He wasn't going to get a confession of love from her anytime soon. She needed time to love herself again. But in the meantime, he was going to remind her of who she was, and love her enough for both of them.

The corners of his lips curled up into a tender, slightly wistful, smile. This wasn't going to be like when she'd ordered him to her room as Tumicho Tsukino. The girl in front of him was _his_ Usako, and he just needed to show her how to be _Usako_ again.

"Usako, take off those ridiculous shoes and come here."

For a split second, the silence in the room was deafening as he watched her internally struggle with the decision to give in, let go of Tumicho Tsukino, and come to him. It passed quickly, and she visibly swallowed, still clutching the dresser behind her as she slowly stepped out of her shoes. It seemed like another significant moment when she stepped down, her height what it should be again, as she peered up at him. Her expression was filled with a raw vulnerability that made his heartache.

Warily, she moved towards him, shoulders tensed in anticipation until they stood mere inches apart. His smile was tender as he cupped the side of her face with one hand, and placed the other one onto the small of her back, silently urging her closer. "Usako," he murmured softly, her breathing quickening with the visible rise and fall of her chest.

He didn't utter another word as his hand trailed the slender curve of her neck, weaving into the hair at the back of her head, as he swept down with an involuntary groan and captured her lips against his. They molded together perfectly, just like they always had, and his tongue swept along the ample curl of her bottom lip. She parted them with a whimper, granting him access.

She moaned softly, and her movements became more frantic, hurried, and lust-filled. She pulled away, a seductive smile curled onto her lips as she nipped at his jaw, her frenzied fingers tugging at the elastic band of the jogging pants he'd changed into to go to sleep.

He wanted this. He wanted _her_. But he wasn't interested in the tantalizingly practiced movements of Tumicho Tsukino, so he grasped her wrist, and forcibly stilled her movements. Her eyes were wide, and she peered up at him, confused by his sudden, silent command to stop.

His lips quirked up into a reassuring half-smile, "Not like that, Usa."

Her eyes widened as he reached forward and expertly unknotted the silk, fabric belt that served to tie her robe shut. The material parted, revealing a practically translucent slip that molded perfectly to the contours of her body. His breath hitched in his throat as he slipped his fingers in between the fabric of her robe and her skin, pulling it slowly off of her shoulders. It was like a rippling wave of white silk that billowed softly before sliding along the length of her body and pooling on the floor at their feet.

 _Damn_. She was stunning, so heart-achingly beautiful, that he could barely stand it anymore. With a shaky exhale, he pulled her back into his arms, pressed his lips tenderly onto the bare skin of her shoulder even as his hand swept down her sides, the silk gliding listlessly against his fingertips, before settling onto her hips.

She pressed her palms flat against his chest, taking his cue to go slow, and propelled herself onto the tips of her toes. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pressed her against the hardened expanse of his chest as her lips brushed softly, delicately along the length of his jaw, like butterfly wings trailing against his skin.

She stopped her gentle ministrations, suddenly, her hair tickling his cheek as her mouth hovered just beside his ear. "Mamoru, please."

He couldn't think straight after that. His name whispered like a love-filled plea on her lips nearly drove him over the edge. His hands slipped beneath the bottom seam of her nightgown, his fingers pressing into the soft skin on the backs of her thighs, as he leaned forward, and hoisted her into his arms.

She gasped, wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him as, in one swift movement, he carried her to the bed and tenderly laid her down on it.

His bed was only a twin, small, not very comfortable, but Usagi still looked tiny on it. Her hair was everywhere, mostly loose from the ponytail that had barely held it up as it spilled across his sheets and pillow like a golden curtain of rippling silk. The creamy white of her bared skin shone flawlessly in the moonlight as her slip tantalizingly bunched around her hips. Her lithe form splayed out in front of him like a picture of heart-stopping perfection. But, it was the look in her eyes that pulled the air from his lungs, the raw, unfettered, _purely Usako_ expression that made him breathless, and desperate for more.

One second he was gazing down at her in awe, and in the next, his body covered hers. Their lips locked, tongues tangled, as his hands explored the soft, muscled edges of her legs that parted as he settled between them. The perfect contours of her hips wiggled in his hands as he divested her of her thin, silk shift that ripped as he tugged a little too fiercely before he tossed it onto the floor.

Soon, his lips replaced his fingers as they trailed along the dip of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, down to the hardened planes of her trembling abdomen. He was lost in the heart-aching perfection of her body, and the sounds of her gasping moans as her fingers wove into his hair as she arched her hips, writhing beneath him, because of the way he deftly twisted and slid his tongue over the most sensitive parts of her core.

His hands steadied her hips, keeping them in place as he brought her to the very brink of release before her body tensed and her lips parted on a soundless cry of pleasure as she toppled into ecstasy.

He pulled away, moving up the length of her body, and pressed his palms into the mattress on either side of her head, leaning back, so that he could look at her.

Her eyes, wet with tears, peered up at him, hooded, satiated and filled with a sense of awe that filled him with pride. "Look at you, Usako," he murmured huskily, shifting his weight so that he could lift his fingers and sweep a tendril of hair out of her eyes. "Beautiful," he whispered reverently, sweeping down to press his lips onto the crook of her shoulder; nipping playfully at the sensitive spots on the curve of her neck, his lips hovering above her ear. "Inside and out, Usa."

She inhaled sharply, "Mamoru," she whispered, the tenor in her voice trembling.

Then her mouth was on his again, lips quivering as they moved sensuously, boldly and filled with passion. Though her kiss wasn't as harsh and demanding as it had been a few days ago, it was more practiced, filled with urgency, and a breathless need that made him dizzy. Then, he was lost again, his need for her building in the pit of his stomach as she whimpered into his mouth, and wantonly arched her body into his as he buried his hands into the endless locks of her hair.

Their kiss escalated into a lust-filled frenzy, as she slowly, tantalizingly ran her hands from the nape of his neck across the top of his shoulders, to lay them flat onto his chest. In one swift movement, she bent her knees, forcefully pushed him forward, and propelled him onto his back.

He gasped into her mouth, startled, as she switched their positions, and straddled his hips without breaking their kiss. His hands automatically settled onto her hips, steadying her, as she breathlessly pulled away.

His throat constricted with emotion, heart skipping a painful beat, because, God. She was so beautiful; flushed cheeks, swollen lips, mussed hair, and a come-hither look shining from behind half-hooded eyes.

It felt like time froze for a moment, as their gazes locked before she leaned back and pulled at the bottom seam of his shirt. His breath caught in his throat, heart racing with an excitement-filled fervor as he helped her remove his shirt over his head and tug his pants over his hips beneath her. Casting them aside as he had with her torn, white silk nightgown.

Their movements were hurried after that, labored breathing, pink-tinged skin, interlocked lips as she aligned her body with his. With synchronized gasps of relief, she lowered herself onto him until he was fully sheathed inside of her.

She threw her head back, hair tumbling over her shoulders, spilling across his chest as she whimpered, mewled, and rocked against him in a way that elicited a feral growl as he felt the tension building so tightly, he was sure that he was going to snap.

With a trembling groan, she fell forward on top of him. Her fingers twisted into the fabric of his sheets on either side of his head as she rocked forward, moving in circular motions, her forehead pressed onto his as she continued to moan. "Mamoru, I can't. God, I think—"

They were both close, on the edge, as he moved with her, his hands guiding her hips, his breath weaving with hers in short, pleasure-filled gasps. "It's okay. I've got you, Usako," he whispered on a ragged breath. Because there was no way he was going over the edge without her.

The tension was building, coiled tightly, as he reached in between them. She gasped as he pressed the pad of his thumb onto her sensitive bundle of nerves in perfect tandem with her movements. He found his release in the exact same moment that she did; his legs clenched, his muscles tightened, and with mirroring, throaty cries of relief, they both toppled into blissful relief together.

She collapsed on top of him, body trembling, hair plastered across his chest, as their labored breathing evened, and he managed to catch his breath. She still hadn't said a word as he lifted his hand, stroked her hair, and gently tucked her head beneath his chin.

He wasn't sure how long they lay there like that, his gaze fixed onto the ceiling, her body curled on top of his, their limbs intimately intertwined. It was so quiet; he was sure that she'd fallen asleep until the lilting sound of her voice broke through the silence.

"Now what, Mamoru? This is my life. I don't want to give it up."

His hand stilled from where he'd been trailing his fingers along her spine. He'd heard the haughty arrogance of Tumicho Tsukino layered beneath her words, though it was significantly muted.

Exhaling deeply, he grimaced, because he was so much closer now, and he couldn't afford to mess this up. "I don't know, Usako," he replied honestly. He was going to have to take this one day at a time. One step at a time, until the words he needed to hear spilled from her lips.

His breath hitched, and his brow creased into a thoughtful frown at the thought. Because, _maybe_ , given what had just happened between them, she was ready to admit that she loved him now?

His arms tightened around her, and he hesitated for only a second before blurting the words out. "I love you, Usako."

The moments of silence that followed his declaration was deafening as he waited with bated breath for her response. Until, finally...

"Thank you."

He exhaled slowly, deflated, though not surprised by her reply. The corners of his lips quirked up into a wistful smirk as he tenderly pressed his lips onto the crown of her head as he shimmied the sheet from beneath them and covered them with it.

"Go to sleep, Usa," he murmured, smoothing her hair back from her face.

She snorted; the sound muffled in his chest. "I'm still the boss," she grumbled under her breath. "I'll go to sleep when I want to go to sleep."

He wasn't sure if she was joking, though given her petulant behavior thus far, probably not. Either way, he rolled his eyes with exasperation as the tensed muscles in her body loosened, and the steady sound of her breathing indicated that she had, in fact, fallen asleep.

He breathed a sigh of exhausted relief as he let his eyelids flutter shut, too. He was one step closer to ending this nightmare, and he was eager to banish all remnants of the ruthless Tumicho Tsukino from existence.

She sighed softly in her sleep, snuggling more deeply into his embrace, and he couldn't help but smile. It wasn't all bad, at least. And he was just happy that tonight, he was able to hold her.

 **oOo**


	10. Chapter 5: Ruthless in Heels Prt 4

**A/N:** Beej88 here! Well, this is it! This is the last part to Ruthless in Heels! I want to thank everyone that read and reviewed this particular dream! I know that due to the nature, and angst of this dream, it was not super popular, but I definitely had fun writing it!

Just a warning; this particular part is particularly dark. Slightly gory, and filled with a lot of heartwrenching stuff.

If you liked it, please read and review!

 **Part 4**

"You have a deal, Sato-san," Usagi agreed, her tone and her gaze steady, as she leaned forward in her seat, slender fingers absentmindedly smoothing out the creases of her dress. "Unless you object, Kunz," she amended graciously, casting a sideways glance at a sullen-faced Kunzite, whose typical, unfiltered, hot-headed responses had seemingly been kept in check.

This was not the first transaction that he'd witnessed between the Tsukino's and the vast array of dangerous, underground criminals with varying degrees of shadiness in the past two weeks.

Usagi, true to her word, was not willing to give up this nightmarish illusion of life. Though there was a significant improvement in the cruelty factor, she was still every bit the ruthless Tumicho Tsukino.

He was treading carefully; their relationship had definitely shifted in his favor, but it was still slow-going. The stubborn staple of Usagi's personality amplified tenfold. And, pulling a confession from her lips was practically impossible, though, it was evident by her actions that she was very much in love with him. Even as Tumicho Tsukino. It was just the frustratingly complex matter of getting _her_ to actually admit it _out loud_.

Which was why he was here, once again, in yet _another_ dangerous situation.

He'd become Tumicho Tsukino's personal bodyguard. Despite Kunzites vehement protests and the fact that he was apparently the only one in the Tsukino's large entourage of brooding brutes that didn't carry a gun.

Sato-san, a shifty-eyed, portly man with greying hair, leaned forward. His eyes narrowed as he warily scrutinized Usagi. His gaze sweeping over all of them before he pursed his lips and leaned back into his chair again. "I'm not sure I trust in your abilities anymore, Tumicho Tsukino," he admitted, and the room fell silent.

Mamoru inhaled sharply, inwardly groaning as the tension in the room perceptibly thickened. Which, if this was like any of the meetings he'd attended in the past two weeks, was an indication that things were about to get dangerous.

Between Usagi's pride, Kunzite's annoying tendency to go off the rails, and the small army of brutes on either side, if Sato-san wasn't careful, this situation was going to go from tension-filled to life-threatening very quickly.

Mamoru inched towards Usagi, eyeing possible ways to exit when the blonde-haired girl in question leaned forward.

Her expression was dangerous, the smile curled onto her lips a warning as she casually tilted her head to the side, and her gaze slid icily over Sato's form. "I see, Sato-san," she replied. Her tone calm, steady, and threatening. He hated to hear her speak like that. "That _is_ unfortunate," she leaned back in her chair again and exchanged a smile with Kunzite whose murderous expression had settled into a casual smirk.

 _That_ did not make Mamoru feel any better, and he resisted the urge to close his eyes and sigh with exasperation. He couldn't wait to get the _hell_ out of this nightmare.

Judging by the tense set of everyone in the room, the way that everyone's hands seemed to be hovering above their weapons, poised and ready to attack, things were about to escalate quickly. If this had been three weeks ago before he'd intervened into Usagi's makeshift character, Tumicho Tsukino wouldn't have hesitated, and Sato-san would already be dead.

As discreetly as possible, he stepped beside her seated form, and his fingers gently grazed the top of her bared, stiffened shoulder. The movement was barely noticeable, but it was a reminder that he was here. As a true testament to how far she'd come, she relaxed, her darkening expression smoothing out into cool contemplation as she icily considered the haughty gangster in front of her.

Usagi tsked with contrived disappointment, "Very well, Sato-san," she conceded, though there was a warning underlying the tone of her voice. Mamoru's jaw clenched tightly, and he silently willed the stupid criminal to think wisely before he spoke next. "If you are no longer confident in my abilities to smuggle your merchandise through, then I suggest you look elsewhere. Though, I doubt very much that you'll find another supplier." Usagi slowly, in a calculated movement, crossed her legs and casually inspected her manicured nails before lifting her ice-cold gaze onto Sato-san, whose confidence was wavering with every word she uttered. "The Tsukino's have currently cornered the market with what you are looking for, Sato-san, and our competition?" She chuckled darkly, "Well, let's say that they're in over their heads. Those left with heads, anyway."

Mamoru inwardly grimaced, silently praying she was just using a scare tactic, though he seriously doubted it. He hoped to God that when he saved Usagi from this world, that she wouldn't be able to remember the details of the things she'd been forced to do.

Sato-san visibly swallowed, because, damn. Usagi was intense in this role, and the man cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His eyes darting around the room to assess his current situation. Mamoru could pinpoint the exact moment Sato-san realized that he and his men were outnumbered by the expression on his face.

Usagi smiled, "It's why I can charge what I want, Sato-san. Now, if you would like this done, I'm going to ask that you pay double what was originally agreed."

Mamoru cringed because this version of Usagi made his stomach twist painfully with anger and nostalgia for his sweet, clumsy, beacon of light.

It was silent, everyone present on edge, as Sato-san mulled over his mistake. Mamoru exhaled with relief when the man, pale-faced and defeated, nodded curtly. "Yes, Tumicho Tsukino," he muttered miserably. "I agree to your terms."

Kunzite, who had managed not to speak thus far, scowled darkly; clearly disappointed with the outcome.

Usagi smiled. "Fantastic, Sato-san," she exclaimed with forced airiness as she uncurled her legs, and gracefully stood. Towering over Sato's seated form in another pair of stupid, high-heels. "We've already made arrangements. Though we had a little set back with our last shipment being confiscated, our next shipment is due to arrive in two days. You'll be contacted when we're ready to make the exchange."

Without waiting for a response, Usagi twisted on her heels to face him. He fought back the urge to roll his eyes when she winked. Instead, he raised an exasperated brow as she swept by him, leaving them to follow in her wake.

Kunzite roughly shouldered past him with a menacing glare that _did_ prompt an eye roll this time as he filtered out of the room with the rest of the Kyodai.

Their meeting with Sato-san who, as far as he knew, wasn't officially affiliated with the Yakuza, had taken place in a seedier location in downtown Kyoto. Though, Mamoru noted that the people who lived here were very aware of who Usagi and Kunzite were.

Which was why pedestrians froze in their tracks as they exited the boarded up, slightly dilapidated, traditional, two-story Machiya, downcast gazes as they circled around them; giving them a wide berth.

Two sleek sedans were parked on the edge of the curb, one of them meant for Usagi and Kunzite. The silver-haired general, barely restraining his rage at Usagi's subtle shift in behavior, yanked the car door open. "Usagi, let's go," he snapped scathingly.

Usagi, fists perched on her hips that were currently enveloped in another jaw-dropping, tightly fitting, black dress, didn't move as she faced her brother.

With a tilt of her head and an unreadable expression, she shrugged. "Actually, Kunz, there's a dress shop around the corner. I want to go."

Mamoru frowned because there was no way in hell he was going to let her go to a shop, in a city filled with people who _clearly_ hated her, alone.

Kunzite, for once, was of the same mindset as his eyes widened in disbelief and his hand shook with fury above the door handle. "You're not serious?" He snapped through gritted teeth. "What the fuck is _wrong_ with you lately, Usagi?" His tone seething and filled with fury. "I'm not going to a damn shop in Kyoto city. Order your fucking clothes online and get in the car!"

Mamoru held his breath in anticipation because Tumicho Tsukino would have become dangerous in the face of Kunzites open defiance. But, she was becoming less and less like the ferocious monster he hated and more like his Usako.

Instead of getting angry, she arched a golden brow coolly, "I wasn't asking for your permission, and I wasn't inviting _you_ along, either, Kunzite," she responded, her tone scathing, pert chin tilted upwards proudly.

Kunzite scoffed, shaking his head in confusion. "Unbelievable, Usagi," he hissed, "and what will happen when some grimy, gutter rat attacks you? What then?"

Usagi shrugged, flicking her wrist dismissively. "Leave the second car here, Kunzite," she commanded. "And I'm not going alone. Mamoru is coming with me."

This proved to be too much for Kunzite who, sputtering furiously, yanked the door open all the way, and without another word, slid into the car. Forcefully slamming the door shut behind him.

The other Kyodai exchanged looks of confusion before Usagi sighed and waved them away. "Well, go already," she ordered, voice firm and tinged with exasperation.

It was only when Kunzite's car pulled away, a glowering flash of his face in the window, and the rest of the Kyodai had left, that his tensed shoulders relaxed.

He met Usagi's gaze with brows raised questioningly. She was a meshed mixture of Usako and Tumicho Tsukino; impulsive, semi-petulant, with a graceful twist.

Her responding smile took his breath away, and he inhaled sharply as she moved towards him, her eyes filled with seductive promise. There was one thing that was undeniable across the board. Usagi was heart-stoppingly _beautiful._

He shook his head to clear it just as she hooked a slender arm through his. "What's the plan here, Usako?" His question was practically whispered because the sweet-smelling aroma of her shampoo, and the way she was pressed so close to his side, overwhelmed him.

She giggled, and the sound was sweet; so reminiscent of the bright-eyed girl he loved that he closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into her as they began to walk.

"Why must there be a plan, Mamoru?" She responded as she laid her head against his arm, blonde, silky hair tumbling over her shoulder with the movement. "Maybe I'm just happy that I brokered a successful deal. Or maybe I just want to spend more time with you alone," she practically purred. Her tone and her words were breathy, suggestive, and they made his pulse quicken in anticipation.

He swallowed before sighing deeply, forcibly slowing their gait onwards. "It's not safe for you here, Usako," he reminded her, as his gaze scanned the fearful, resentment-filled expressions of the crowd of pedestrians they were now wading through.

Usagi shrugged, craning her neck sideways to glance over at him. "I'm not worried, Mamoru," she admitted. "You'll protect me." Her smile faded, though, and her eyes narrowed as her gaze swept over him. She halted and placed a delicate hand on his chest to stop him in his tracks.

She twisted around to face him, head tilted to the side, a look of exasperation on her face. "Mamoru, where's the gun I gave you?"

He shrugged in response, eliciting an eye-roll and a sigh from Usagi. "How are you supposed to protect yourself? You understand that you're a Tsukino Kyodai, right?" Her tone was tinged with reproachful irritation as she swiveled around and tugged him forward again.

The corner of his lips quirked up into a half-smirk, "I've been managing just fine without it, Usako," he pointed out. It was true, too. He'd managed to pull the ruthless love of his life out of more than one life-threatening situation in this nightmare without being armed.

They rounded the corner, and as they neared the shop front that she'd indicated, she peered at him sideways. Her brows knit into a contemplative frown of confusion. "I don't understand your aversion to guns and my lifestyle, Mamoru. Why are you even here if you hate it so much?" She demanded her expression bewildered and wary.

His heart skipped a beat, and he couldn't stop the warm smile that slid onto his face. "Usako," he began softly. "I'm here for you." That was _technically_ the truth. He was most definitely here for her.

Her eyes widened slightly, and he heard her sharp intake of breath. He internally flinched because she wasn't ready yet. He'd made progress, and he didn't want her to pull away again.

So, he forced a smirk and a nonchalant shrug, " _That_ , and I heard something about Kyodai going missing when attempting to leave the infamous Tsukino family." He was only teasing, his tone purposely light. But by the way her head snapped forward, jaw clenched, and the red tinge that swept across her cheeks, there was a hint of truth to his words that he did not care to delve into.

She shrugged impassively, though he could tell by her hardened expression as she pulled away and swept past him, that it _did_ bother her.

Though he did not like that she was needlessly struggling, because thiswas a _nightmare_ and she hadn't really done _any of these things,_ he knew the remorse was one step closer to the Usako that would admit she loved him.

Her gait was purposeful, confident as she swept through the partially opened lattice wood door that led into a small store that was clearly family-owned. He sighed as he followed her into the small space. The racks of clothes haphazardly placed throughout the room that was thick with the smell of burning incense.

After a quick perusal of the merchandise, he wondered what had drawn Usagi to the store in the first place, as the clothes definitely did not align with the high-end, mostly revealing outfits that he'd seen her wearing in this nightmare so far.

He absentmindedly slid the material of a handmade, traditional silk kimono nearest him between his thumb and index finger; a vision of his Usako wearing something like this so much easier to imagine than the ruthless gangster that always wore heels. He couldn't help the sad, wistful smile that curled onto his lips at the image of a time when things had been so much easier.

He would gladly face all of the enemies of their past if it meant that he could get them out of this endless loop of horror in which he needed to watch Usagi be tortured in painfully unique ways over and over again.

He must have stood there for a while, lost in thought, because he was startled when Usagi laid a delicate hand on his arm, slender fingers curling gently around his wrist. He blinked, turning slightly, and lifted his gaze to meet hers.

Blonde brows knit, her head tilted to the side, curiosity shining from the depths of her eyes as she met his gaze. "Do you like that kimono?" Her tone was inquisitive, though there was something he couldn't quite pinpoint in her voice. Uncertainty, maybe? "You're staring at it pretty intently."

He felt the heat rise up into his face and pulled away, releasing the fabric of the kimono that he was still clutching between his fingertips. "Yeah, it's pretty," he responded under his breath, averting his gaze, lifting his hand to scratch at the back of his head nervously. This would all be so much easier if he could just tell her that this wasn't real.

In one swift movement, Usagi leaned forward, her hair sweeping across his arms and face as she pulled the garment off of the rack. "I like it too," she exclaimed with a petulant tilt of her chin, a determined glint in her eyes.

The look elicited an amused smile from him, and he raised a brow in question. "Usako, I've never seen you wear anything remotely like this," he chuckled, his tone soft and teasing.

To his absolute delight, a pink blush of embarrassment swept across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. It was so much like _his_ Usako that he needed to resist the urge to lean forward and kiss her.

She frowned, annoyed, as she abruptly pulled away with a huff. "How would you _know,"_ she snapped, swiveled around so that her back was facing him, the kimono clutched in her hands, with arms crossed. "You've known me for a whole _twenty-five_ seconds, Mamoru."

He rolled his eyes, a small smile of exasperation on his lips, because Usagi, in this nightmare, was such a strange array of emotions. It was challenging to keep up with the roller coaster that was an odd mixture of menacing, ruthless, and then guilt-ridden, pink-faced, and insecure. If this were real, he had no doubt that before he'd arrived, Tumicho Tsukino would have scoffed with a sneer. Or, shot him dead.

Either way, he was grateful that this wasn't real, and that the staples of her personality, even the insecure, uncertain pieces _,_ were shining through.

His smile widened, and he decided to take a risk as he took the step to close the gap between them, pulled her against him, chest pressed against her back, and enveloped her slender waist in his arms.

He heard her inhale sharply as he swept her hair aside and pressed his lips along the slender curve of her neck. "Best _twenty-five seconds_ ever, Usako," he murmured huskily, brushing his lips across her ear, smiling against her skin when he felt her shudder against him.

They were interrupted suddenly by a loud, terror-tinged gasp, and he lifted his head towards the source of the sound. He felt Usagi's body tense in his arms, and he frowned at the sight of an elderly woman. She had a slightly stooped figure, slumped shoulders and grey hair pulled back tightly into a severe-looking bun. It was the wide-eyed fear of her expression that caught his attention, though, as she bent even lower, visibly trembling in front of them.

Usagi pulled away from him by stepping forward, and the woman flinched, afraid, and Usagi froze. "Tumicho Tsukino," she stuttered, the sound brittle and broken. "It is a — a— pleasure to have you in my small, modest store. Please, take whatever you want."

The realization that the storekeeper's terror was because she recognized Usagi made his stomach churn as his heart twisted painfully in the cavity of his chest.

He cast a sideways glance at Usagi, scrutinizing her reaction. Would she be Tumicho Tsukino who would callously dismiss the woman and take what she wanted? Or the budding brightness of his vulnerable Usa, who was internally struggling with her remorse?

He exhaled slowly, relieved, as her face paled, her fists clenched, and the internal anguish was evident as it flashed from behind china-blue eyes. "If I want something, I'll buy it," she snapped. Her curt response was more than likely elicited from the pained self-realization of how much terror she'd instilled as Tumicho Tsukino. _He_ knew that, but the woman did not, and she cringed, hastily tripping over her feet as she took a step back.

Even in heels, the Usagi of this world was ridiculously graceful, and she was quick to stride forward and steady the woman before she fell. "God, there's no need to be _dramatic,_ " Usagi muttered under her breath, the pink blush on her face deepening into an embarrassed crimson-red hue. "I'm not going to hurt you, I'm just here to look at your clothes and maybe _buy_ something."

The woman pulled away, sheepish, nodding vehemently, "Yes, of course," she stuttered as she backed away slowly, waving her arm in invitation. "Anything you want, Tumicho Tsukino. There's a change room there if you need it," she offered and pointed to a small stall behind her. The doorway was fitted with a red cloth curtain spread across a makeshift wrought iron pole. "If-if-if you need me, I'll be in the back office over there."

The woman was more mobile than he'd surmised as she retreated quickly into the room she'd indicated. It was painful to see the way Usagi stood stock-still, staring after the woman with clenched fists and a rare unguarded look of devastation on her face.

In the past two weeks, he'd learned a lot about the right way to handle Usagi in this nightmare. So, he knew that she had a veritably volatile disposition, and he needed to tread carefully.

What he really wanted to do was pull her into his arms, tell her she didn't have to feel this way if only she admitted that she loved him. Instead, he fixed a smirk on his face, bent over to pick up the kimono that she'd dropped in her haste to steady the shopkeeper, and held it out to her.

He cleared his throat, startling her out of her daze. "Well?" He asked brow raised sardonically. "I thought you were going to try this on because you liked it?"

It was silent, as her frown deepened and her eyes flicked back and forth between the kimono in his hand to his face. It took a moment as she mulled over her feelings, but her tensed shoulders relaxed and the coy, seductive grin that he'd seen more than once here, curled onto the ample, pink-tinged, curves of her lips.

She closed the gap between them, her movements slow, enticing, with a very purposeful sway of her hips, as she curled the fingers of one hand into the fabric of the silk kimono and the front of his shirt with the other.

Usagi was much shorter than him, and usually, he towered over her. But with her heels, she was as tall as he was; which meant that not only was her face level with his but so were the angled curves of her hips. He barely managed to maintain the teasing, blank expression on his face when she pulled him forward, pressed herself flush against him, and tilted her head ever so slightly so that her lips hovered beside his ear.

His hand automatically pressed against the small of her back, and his breath hitched in his throat at the sound of her whispered, sultry voice. "Want to help me put it on?"

There was no time for the words to register, much less respond, before she laughed, pulled him forward and they stumbled through the red curtain into the tiny change room stall.

One moment he was ready to protest because his Usako would have never done something this bold, and the next he was lost in a lust-filled haze. Because, damn. She was so _intoxicating_ as she pressed him up against the wood-paneled wall. Her lips moving in a practiced, groan-inducing, way against his. Her hands exploring the hardened planes of his body, as his fingers wove through the glorious, silken locks of hair at the back of her head.

He was on the verge of shifting their positions, and if he'd been of sound mind and not completely lost in the enticing feeling of her body pressed intimately against his, he probably would have been embarrassed by the fact that he was fully prepared to push her against the wall, and take her right there. Luckily, the loud trilling sound of a ringing phone interrupted them.

She pulled away, breathless, their gazes locked as she reached into the discreetly sewn-in pocket of her dress, and pulled out her phone.

She didn't break eye contact with him as she expertly swiped her thumb across the screen and pressed the phone to her ear.

He smiled, tenderly caressed the side of her face, as the tip of her tongue darted out to lick her lips before she answered. "What?"

Her voice was curt, filled with irritation at the interruption, as her arm curled around his neck, her fingers twisting in the hair at the back of his head.

He pressed a hand onto her bare thigh, prepared to hoist it around his waist when her body stiffened, and all of the passionate ferocity from a moment before was gone. With a sharp, angry inhale, she placed a hand on his shoulder to push him away.

He frowned, stepped back, studying the furious expression on her face curiously. "What do you mean? When did they get there?"

He could hear the muffled chords of someone, probably Kunzite, on the other line.

Her hand shook as her fingers visibly tightened around her phone. "Stall them, Kunz. I'll be there soon."

Without another word, she pulled the phone away from her ear, and the telltale click as the screen locked resonated from it as she stuffed it back into her pocket.

He frowned, internal alarm bells going off as her entire disposition hardened and she reverted back into the dreaded Tumicho Tsukino.

He inwardly cursed as he took a step back, though, it was hard to put any distance in between them enclosed in this small space.

"What's wrong, Usako?"

His breath caught in his throat, and he swore his heart stopped when her eyes steadily met his.

"We have to go," she snapped, her tone crisp and impersonal. "The cops are about to raid the manor."

Up until that moment, he'd forgotten that he was supposedly a cop in this world. It was hard to keep his expression neutral at the stone-cold reminder, though, and suddenly he knew with a heart-stopping intensity, that this was not going to end well for him.

 **oOo**

The dread that he'd felt twinge in his chest the moment Usagi's facial expression hardened, coldly sweeping past him in the store, unfurled into something pulsating and practically unbearable as he pulled the black sedan up the manor's winding driveway.

The silence in the car on the drive back had been tension-filled and nerve-wracking as Usagi sat quietly seething beside him in the passenger seat. Her expression dark, brooding, as she'd fixed her gaze on the moving scenery outside of the car window.

Any words that he might have spoken caught in his throat and tangled in webbed threads of worry. Because, his sixth sense, the one that always alerted him to potential danger, twisted with warning in the pit of his stomach.

He'd only just managed to shift the car into park when Usagi's fingers curled around the handle, she roughly pushed the door open, and gracefully slid out of the vehicle. Her movements fluid and filled with urgency.

He grimaced, clutched the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles whitened as he mentally collected himself in preparation for the next twist. The next obstacle that had been expertly crafted to throw a wrench into his progress. Because, if he'd learned anything since the nightmares had started, it was that this was all a game; a test of horrors meant to make things harder for them.

He didn't let his mind linger with frustration on the potential motives this time as he opened his own door and lengthened his strides to catch up with Usagi that had already made halfway down the drive towards the manor's entrance.

His eyes briefly scanned over the multiple police cruisers that lined the driveway, and his heart rate kicked it up a notch, whether from adrenaline or dread, as they entered through the untraditional, double-wide reinforced steel entryway into the manor's genkan.

Usagi looked every bit the powerful gangster that she was supposed to be; muscles tightened and coiled with powerful, practiced strides in a black dress, heels and a determined, fury-filled expression that he could see instilling the fear that his Usako did not deserve, but that Tumicho Tsukino had rightfully earned.

Strangely, the hall was devoid of the usual comings and goings of the Shatei, Kyodai and the endless army of servants that were always flitting about underfoot, always on hand to serve the Tsukino's.

They _did_ pass several uniformed officers that were moving just as purposefully, gloved, determination on their faces as they tore apart the hall. Carelessly tossing things aside, pulling drawers from the decorative mahogany desks that lined the walls, tipping chairs, lifting the rugs lining the polished wooden floors. It was a chaotic flurry of men and women in uniform, armed in bulletproof vests.

Usagi halted, gasping with indignant outrage as her face reddened with fury, her entire form stiffened and her hands balled into fists pressed angrily at her sides. Damn. This was not good, and it only just occurred to him that he probably should have spent some time communicating his 'progress' with the ruthless Tumicho to Ami. Obviously, he didn't know the first thing about being an undercover cop, and he muttered an irritated curse at the setback as he stepped forward and tentatively placed a reassuring hand on the tensed small of her back.

She only glanced at him briefly before turning back towards the chaos. Her lips pressed into a grim, hard-set line on her face. "Excuse me," she hissed, and though her tone hadn't raised a single octave, the nearest officers froze at the sound as they flicked their widened, hate-filled gazes onto her. "Who's in charge here?"

Her fury laced demand fell on deaf ears as she was purposely ignored, as they turned, and continued to ransack the room. Mamoru's eyes narrowed in irritated disbelief as he noted the way Usagi sputtered, her hand automatically flying to the curve of her hip for the gun that was no longer there.

His jaw clenched, internally screaming at this unwelcome interruption in his plan to pull Usagi away from the constricting ropes of this nightmare and the life constructed for her. _This_ , he was certain, would only serve to draw her more firmly _into it._

"I'm in charge, Tsukino."

Mamoru inhaled sharply, his gaze snapping up towards the source of the harshly uttered words that were _very_ familiar. _Dammit._ It was Ami, and it required a hefty dose of will-power and inner strength to keep his expression utterly neutral as the uniform-clad bluenette approached, exuding all of the authority and hard-faced aura of a cop. She was everything that Ami, in real life, was not; confident, smug, with a cold sneer curled onto the curve of her lips.

He was very happy that Usagi's back was towards him, because he was sure that his face was pale, and the look in his eyes filled with a recognition that she probably would have noticed.

As it stood, Ami knew what she was doing because her eyes flicked towards him for a brief, nondescript second before settling back on a tense, veritably angry Usagi.

Usako wore her heart on her sleeve. She was practically incapable of withholding her reactions to the strong emotions that swelled within her. So, when she loved something, it was likely that she'd be a ball of gushing brightness, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. It was the same when she was angry. Unable to contain it, she was usually an adorable, foot-stomping, red-faced ball of energy that was unable to withhold the ranting words of injustice that would have spilled, unbidden, from her lips. She was dramatic in the very best ways.

Tumicho Tsukino's character, though, had managed to suppress that perfectly beautiful flaw in the love of his life. So, his heart constricted painfully in his chest as he watched her coiled muscles relax, a smooth, practiced smirk slide onto her face as she condescendingly swept her eyes along Ami's form. It was a slow, calculated look that ended with a low, breathy chuckle that indicated that Ami had been judged and undeniably found wanting.

It visibly shook the bluenette, who faltered slightly under her stare, before she hardened her resolve, a furious red-tinge on her cheeks.

Usagi sighed, propped one hand on her hip as she slowly inspected her nails on the other. The picture of disinterest as she cast a lofty glance back at Ami. "Hmm," she hummed thoughtfully. "I think I know you. You're that cop. The one with the vendetta because your boyfriend _happened_ to die in an accident involving my brother," she drawled, and Mamoru closed his eyes for a second, inhaling deeply at yet _another_ horrible revelation. "What was his name? Zempai? Zenkou?" She was very clearly prodding Ami, and it was _working._

The pain-filled, thunderous expression on Ami's face was heart-wrenching to see. " _Zoisite,"_ she rasped, her voice trembling with fury as she took a step closer to Usagi. "And it _wasn't_ an accident, you heartless—"

Usagi's trilling laugh interrupted her. "What do you _want,_ officer? You have no grounds to _be_ here." Her tone was forceful, filled with a smug certainty that made Mamoru want to groan.

Ami's angry disposition softened, however, at Usagi's admonishment and a victorious, smug smile of her own crossed her lips. "Actually, Tsukino, we do." Her tone was bright, confident. "We have a warrant to search the premises as there is _significant_ evidence that suggests that you're harboring wanted criminal Aino Minako."

Usagi's unruffled expression did falter at that, and a small, annoyed frown creased onto her brow. "I'm not sure who that is," she replied through gritted teeth.

Ami's knowing smile widened. "I think you do, Tsukino. And, well, if we _happen_ to find anything else in the process of searching for her…" The blunette trailed off with a casual shrug. "Why don't you go join your brother in the ostentatious atrocity that you call a dining room, Tsukino? This will be over soon."

Usagi didn't have time to respond as Ami swept by her before stopping directly in front of him. He swallowed nervously, his jaw clenched as he peered down into Ami's swirling aquamarine eyes, inwardly praying that the former Senshi of intelligence didn't give him away.

Unexpectedly, the blunette grinned, and his eyes widened in shock as she pressed herself against him. "I will say this, Tsukino," she quipped, "your underlings are definitely getting better looking."

He internally cringed at the look of pure unadulterated anger that flashed across Usagi's expression as Ami trailed her hand down his chest, discreetly maneuvering her hands under the fabric of his jacket, before winking, shooting a satisfied smirk towards Usagi, and striding away without looking back.

Usagi practically growled, her eyes filled with jealousy-tinged rage as her gaze, burning hotly, lingered murderously on Ami's retreating form. "What. The. Hell." She hissed, her fists clenched at her sides.

Mamoru knew that the display had been contrived. Meant as more than just a way to annoy the powerful, infuriating Tumicho Tsukino—Though if the expression on Usagi's face was any indication, she'd definitely succeeded _at that—_ He knew this because he'd felt when Ami's deft movements had managed to slip an item into his jacket pocket. Whatever it was, it felt like it was burning a hole through the thick material into his hip.

Gracefully, as usual in this nightmare, Usagi twisted towards him and grasped his arm. Her expression was still angry as she tugged him forward. "Let's go find my brother, Mamoru," she said through gritted teeth.

It never occurred to him not to follow, but his eyes were decidedly cool as he walked beside her, his movements brisk. Internally, he was just frustrated because he hated to see a blatantly cruel Usagi, and he was annoyed that he was going to have to backtrack, once again. Of course, Usa had no way of knowing what he was thinking, and he frowned when she halted, stopping them both in the middle of the empty hallway, just beyond the threshold of the dining room,

Her expression was sullen, petulant almost, as she glared at him. "I had nothing to do with that cop, Mamoru," she defended, a blush reddening her cheeks, her chin tilted up proudly. Her confession managed to catch him off guard, so he simply raised a brow in question, which only managed to annoy her more.

She yanked her hand away from him, and his heart skipped a beat because God help him, she actually _stomped her foot._ "I didn't, Mamoru! It actually _was_ an accident, so you can stop looking at me with those stupid judgy blue eyes!"

This hadn't been a setback, after all. Because there was no way in hell Tumicho Tsukino would be defending her actions, adorably pink-cheeked and indignant, to a lowly Kyodai. He couldn't answer her, his words caught in his throat, along with the breath of pure elated relief at the realization.

His non-responsiveness, however, only served to annoy her further. "You know what?" She hissed, "Forget it! I _did_ shoot that cop, or whatever. I did it in stupid, cold blood. And I was laughing at the time. And the sun was shining! What do you think about _that_ , you judgmental, self-righteous, bak—"

She was lying, embarrassed, _ranting_ like the beautiful, bright-eyed Usako that she was, and he was so damn relieved that he couldn't help but reach out, pull her into his arms, and interrupt her sulky tirade with lips pressed firmly onto hers. He'd caught her off guard, so her lips parted on a breathless gasp of surprise, which effectively made it easier for him to deepen their kiss. It was only a moment before her arms curled around his neck, and she reciprocated with the passionate ferocity he'd become very well acquainted with in this world.

When they pulled apart, her eyes were wide, confused, and she unsteadily took a step backward and shook her head as if to clear it. "You're confusing as hell, Chiba," she muttered, tone tinged with confusion, as she twisted around to face the dining room doorway.

The corners of his lips quirked up into an amused smirk as he watched her inhale deeply, straighten her shoulders in preparation for the Tumicho Tsukino character that he was now _sure_ was a façade, and stride with purpose through the door.

He moved to follow her, but not before he noticed a flash of blue from out of the corner of his eye. He quickly glanced sideways and internally groaned. Because there, just beyond the doorway, was Ami. Her eyes wide, filled with horror, as her piercing stare bore into him. _Damn._ She'd seen the kiss. He was sure of it, and he tried to convey a look that was akin to something reassuring, but before he could, she twisted back around and disappeared from the threshold.

He didn't have time to dwell on it, though he did feel that knotted dread twinge once again, as he slipped through the intricately etched door after Usagi.

She was the fiery Tumicho in heels again, as she halted in her tracks, hot glare boring down into a seated Kunzite whose demeanor was annoyingly casual as he leaned back, and peered up at his sister with a smirk fixed onto his face.

Usagi practically trembled in her rage. "Mamoru, shut the door behind you," she ordered, her words trembling in their fury-filled intensity.

Wordlessly, he reached over and shut the door. The resounding click echoed around the room that was vacant except for the three of them, and Mamoru crossed his arms and leaned back against it. He wasn't sure what he was planning to do if Ami, or another one of the cops, tried to open it, but the movement was symbolic all the same. He was there for her, no matter what, and Usagi nodded in approval before stalking towards Kunzite who scoffed with disgust.

Usagi exhaled slowly, reigning in her emotions in a way that Usako would never have been able to do before she spoke. "Tell me that you weren't stupid enough to keep that blonde-haired twit of a cop around after we were done with her?"

Her words were dripping with reproach, and a muscle in his jaw popped because he'd clenched it so tightly at her words. He quietly reminded himself that she was only pretending right now, and if she wasn't, it wasn't her fault.

Kunzites nostrils flared as his eyes flashed with indignant outrage. His shoulders and body stiffened as he leaned forward in his chair. "You're fucking kidding me, right?" He raged. "So, you get to keep a _plaything,_ " he gestured towards Mamoru, "but I don't?"

While Mamoru didn't particularly enjoy being referred to as a plaything, he wisely kept his mouth shut as Usagi bristled, clearly outraged, at Kunzite's less than remorseful response. "You _stupid_ idiot!" She growled. "That isn't the same thing, and you _know_ it, Kunz!" Usagi's voice had risen an octave, and he shifted nervously, hopeful that her words weren't loud enough to be heard beyond this door. "She's a rogue cop that killed another cop in broad daylight to help a convicted criminal, _that was about to give them everything they needed on us,_ escape!"

He bit back a grimace at that harshly uttered statement because, technically, Kunzite was right. It was the same thing… they just didn't know it.

Kunzite practically growled as he shot out of the dining room chair. The movement abrupt enough to send it crashing onto the floor with a loud and resounding thud. "She's _mine,_ " he snarled, hands balling into fists as he faced her with all the fury and menacing rage of the dark and dangerous Oyabun Tsukino. "I'm not an idiot, Usagi. Of course, she isn't here. Though if she were, I'd fucking kill every single cop here to protect us. Just like you would have when you weren't acting like a weak, pathetic _rat."_

Kunzite's words were chilling, and Usagi's response must have been purely on instinct as she lifted her hand and slapped him across the face. The sickening sound of her open palm connecting with his skin reverberated around the room, the forceful impact forcibly craning his neck to the side.

Kunzite's eyes were wide with disbelief for a moment as he stepped back. They quickly filled with rage, though, as a snarled growl tore from his throat, and he lifted his fist to strike her.

Mamoru was acting purely on instinct now, too, and he was quick to close the distance between them, stepping between Usagi and Kunzite as he caught his descending fist in his hand. " _I'll_ kill you first, _Oyabun_ Tsukino." His words were angry, reckless, but he couldn't help the way his body tensed and coiled in preparation to protect Usagi, no matter where they were. He may not have been granted the powers of Tuxedo Kamen here, but he could feel the latent abilities simmering just beneath the surface. And, he was _always_ going to be the prince that needed to protect his princess.

Kunzite must have felt something too because his temper cooled significantly as their gazes locked into a challenging stare that neither of them was willing to lose.

The white-haired general yanked his hand away from him, stepped back, and adjusted the collar of his shirt. "Do you really think I'd hurt my sister?" He was backpedaling, his rage dissipated just enough that what he'd almost done flashed from behind icy blue eyes with regret. "You don't know her like I do."

Mamoru swallowed around the lump of anger in his throat, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he steadily faced him. "You're _wrong,"_ he replied. "I've known—" He barely managed to stop himself, snapping his mouth shut in time before he blurted the whole truth out. There was no way he was going to start this hell over again.

Kunzite smirked, scoffing as his stance softened, though there was still an ice-filled hatred shining from his eyes. "Move aside, Kyodai," he sneered, "I have something important to discuss with my sister, and I need you to get the fuck out of here."

Mamoru shook his head. There was no way in hell he was leaving her. He was prepared to fight his former friend, when Usagi laid a hand on his arm, startling him.

He met her gaze over his shoulder, and his heart skipped a beat at the soft, tender-filled look in her eyes. Her eyes were bright, her expression grateful. _Usako._ He wished, more than anything, she would just tell him that she loved him so he could save her from this.

"Mamoru, It's okay," she assured softly, "I need you to leave so I can talk to my brother privately."

When her words registered through longing-filled thoughts, his eyes widened, and he shook his head, sputtering in disbelief. "Usako, he was about to _hit_ you," he growled incredulously.

Usagi smiled, "To be fair, I hit him first," she pointed out, but that did _not_ make him feel any better. She rolled her eyes and sighed when he didn't budge, "Please, Mamoru. I'll be fine." It was the pleading note in her voice that made him reluctantly concede.

He wanted to lean over and kiss her, but he settled with comfortingly squeezing her hand. "I'll be just outside the door if you need me," he reassured, and forcibly ignored Kunzites scornful bark of laughter as he moved towards the door.

Kunzites final taunt made him freeze, hand poised on the handle. "What would you even do without a gun, Kyodai?"

Mamoru's vision blurred with anger, and his expression was hard, laced with deadly promise as he steadily met Kunzites eyes over his shoulder. "I don't need a gun to kill you, Kunzite," he replied before slipping through the door.

He didn't know how the nightmares truly worked, and he'd spent so much time pulling the darkness from Usagi that he'd forgotten about keeping his in check. Which was evident by the fact that he was one hundred percent sure that he truly, uncharacteristically, meant those words.

 **oOo**

It was late by the time the cops finished what they'd come to do, and though Mamoru hated to admit it, he was secretly relieved to see the disappointed slump in Ami's shoulders and the sullen defeat glinting from her eyes as she, and her brigade, vacated the premises. It meant that they'd found nothing, and he still had time to work on pulling a confession from Usagi. Which would be infinitely harder to do if she was behind bars and aware that he was supposedly a cop, too.

Usagi had been silent, her expression thoughtful, miserably stoic as if she were contemplating something important when she'd left the dining room with Kunzite. Not only that, but he couldn't help but notice the way she'd purposefully avoided his gaze as they restored some semblance of reassured normalcy with the underlings who magically reappeared after the raid.

Then, when she'd swept from the room without a glance his way, he couldn't help the nervous feeling that unfurled in his chest as he watched her go. Something was wrong. Which was only emphasized by the way Kunzite sneered smugly at him from amidst a group of Kyodai that were circled around him.

His stomach was churning, tension coiled nervously in the stiffened muscles of his neck and shoulders by the time he made it through the other Kyodai and found himself standing outside of her bedroom door. She was at the point where she would have waited for him, and the fact that she hadn't wasn't a good sign. _What the hell had Kunzite said to her?_

Every night for the past week, he'd entered her room without knocking. Tonight, though, when he twisted the handle, it was locked. His breath hitched, and the small twinge of uncertainty and dread exploded and spread throughout him. The mixture of emotions and the images of what obstacle could have possibly been wrenched into his path this time spurred him to throw caution to the wind as he angrily wrapped his fingers on the door.

She didn't answer right away, but he knew that she was in there. He could hear her shuffling movements on the other side. "Usagi," he snapped, angry, frustrated, and so damn exhausted with wading through the never-ending horrors in this world. "Open the door. I know you're in there."

Tumicho Tsukino would have never opened the door at the sound of a bitterly whispered command. So, he was relieved a little bit when he heard the telltale sound of the lock twisting in the brass handle, before the door opened, revealing Usagi, who peered up at him, her face pale, blue eyes glistening miserably, and her lips pressed into a hard, grim line.

She was significantly shorter, barefoot and vulnerable as she stepped back, giving him room to pass. She didn't say a word when she closed the door behind him, her room dimly-lit, as he faced her, his eyes searching her face for some kind of clue that might prepare him for what the hell was going on with her.

He inhaled slowly, raking his fingers through his hair. "Usako, why didn't you wait for me?"

She shrugged, arms crossed, as she turned her head to the side. Fixing her gaze onto something obscure and unimportant on the wall beside her. "If I want to see you, Chiba, rest assured that I'll call for you." He was sure that she'd meant her tone to sound haughty and in control. If so, she'd failed miserably, because there was no bite behind the miserably whispered words. Only a heavy tone of despair that ripped at him. What the hell was wrong with her?

He closed the gap between them, cradled her face in his hands, and forcibly turned it towards him. She seemed so much smaller, more exposed, without the heels that she'd been wearing earlier, and he wanted to kiss her, shield her, tell her everything was going to be okay.

Instead, he lowered his head, his face inches from hers as he curiously studied her expression. "Usako, please," he pleaded, "tell me what's wrong. What did Kunzite say to you when I left the room?"

The possibilities were _endless._ This was a nightmare, after all, and the monsters that controlled it were getting crafty. So, the things he was imagining _—had she discovered that he was a cop?—_ were coursing through his head at an alarming rate.

One imagined situation was more horrible than the next. So, he was surprised by her response. "Makoto is back, Mamoru," she explained as if that answered _any_ of his unasked questions. While he was relieved to hear that his one ally in this tumultuous pit of hell was back safe and sound, it still did not explain Usagi's newfound reticence.

His brow furrowed in confusion. Was she still unnecessarily jealous of Makoto? He'd been very clear that he was in love with her. In fact, he'd whispered it to her every single night in the hopes of a reciprocating admission, so it couldn't be that.

He shook his head and trailed his hands slowly down the slender curve of her neck, across the tops of her shoulders, down the length of her arms, to settle comfortably on her hips. "Okay, Usako," he murmured tentatively. "Why are you upset that she's back?"

Usagi's expression darkened, and the remorse-filled despair that washed over her face made his breath hitch in his throat. "Because she brought Asahi back with her." She swallowed miserably, sour expression as she steadily met his gaze. "Alive, Mamoru."

This made sense to Mamoru because he could not imagine Jupiter having the stomach or the disposition to kill anyone despite the role she was being forced to play here. What didn't make sense to him was Usagi's harsh reaction to it.

Mamoru's frown of confusion deepened as his hands moved to the small of her back, urging her closer, curling her lithe form into his arms, while her hands bunched, almost desperately, into the fabric of his shirt.

He brushed his lips across her forehead, eliciting a shudder. "I'm not sure I catch your drift here, Usako. Why are you so upset?"

The smell of her shampoo, the way her body was pressed flush against his, and even the way her breath fanned warmly across his chin were beginning to overwhelm his senses, and he wanted nothing more than to sweep down, haul her into his arms and carry her to bed.

She sighed softly, almost too quiet for him to have heard the sound. "Because, Mamoru," she whispered. "Kunzite wants me to make an example of him for abandoning us. I have to kill him in front of the other Kyodai."

It was like she'd injected ice into his veins, and he froze, pulling back to stare down at her in disbelieving horror. "You're kidding, right?" He choked because this wasn't Tumicho Tsukino anymore. This was his Usako that he was talking to, and despite what he knew about her here in this world, the thought of watching her coldly kill anyone in a preplanned, calculated manner made the bile rise unbidden in his throat. "You don't have to do anything, Usako. Especially not that."

He was sure that she was acting torn, miserable, and withdrawn because she'd obviously said no, and she was afraid of Kunzite's retribution. Until she tilted her head up, and her deadpan, determined expression, along with the memory of Kunzites victory filled sneer, told him otherwise. _No._ There was no way that he could stomach letting her _do_ this, and he muttered harshly spat expletives as he tore away from her angrily.

Her expression remained unchanged as her hands fell limply to her sides, and he shook his head in denial. "No, Usagi. Fuck. You can't do _this_ ," he pleaded desperately, furiously raking his fingers through his hair.

Usagi's eyes welled with unshed tears of frustration as she balled her hands into fists and narrowed her eyes, fixing them on his face. "What is your _problem,_ Mamoru?" She demanded hoarsely. "You knew what I was when I brought you here. This is _my_ life, and the Kyodai are whispering rumors about how _weak_ I am."

He couldn't stand this. He needed her to see reason, and he strode towards her, and roughly grasped her by the shoulders. His eyes wide, beseeching, as he shook her slightly, his fingers pressing into the soft skin of her arms. "Then, _let them_ whisper, Usako," he rasped. "Please. You're so much more than this." He was begging her now, and he didn't care. He couldn't stand it anymore. Usagi was purity personified. The most forgiving soul he knew. This would kill her if she realized what she'd been forced to do. Fake or not.

With a gasp of outrage, Usagi lifted her hands and roughly pushed him away. The raw, vulnerable tears of pain slid listlessly down her cheeks even as she glared up at him. "You said that what I've done didn't matter to you," she choked, her small form trembling angrily. "You said you loved me, and that you understood! I can't let this slide anymore, Mamoru. I have to be strong."

Oh, God. He'd genuinely thought he'd been making progress, but the monsters had really outdone themselves when creating this character for the light of his life. He couldn't breathe, because, damn. She couldn't even begin to understand what this meant for her.

He swallowed, carefully considering his words as he faced her. "Usako, I said that what you'd done didn't matter because it doesn't if you're trying to do better," he whispered, his tone filled with threads of pleading supplication. He _needed_ her to _understand_. "Don't you get it?" His tone was brittle, desperate. " _Killing_ _him_ would be weak. Forgiving him is what takes strength."

She didn't say a word, though her lower lip quivered as she met his gaze. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, and with a groan, he cradled her face again, pleased that she didn't pull away.

He wanted this to be over. He was done with this world. It was time to get them out of here. "Usako," he murmured, his lips mere inches from hers. "Do you love me?"

He waited, breath held, their gazes fixed onto each other when she slowly shook her head. "No," she stated with a finality that tore him apart. "I can't love someone that doesn't accept me for who I am. And I am Tumicho Tsukino, Mamoru." Every word she uttered was like a knife twisting into his heart. This was _not_ who she was. "I'm going to do this whether you like it or not."

He studied her resolute expression for a moment more, his heart aching with defeat before he pulled away and swallowed past the lump of pain constricting his throat. "I can't stand to see you like this," he breathed, his tone anguished because it was true. This was so fucking painful to watch unfold in front of him.

He didn't say a word as he pulled away from her, avoided her gaze, and wrenched the door open, wordlessly striding out into the hallway. She didn't follow or call out to him, and he didn't look back.

He needed time to regroup. To figure out a new plan of action, because what he was doing clearly wasn't working. Whatever he was going to do, he needed to figure it out fast. Because if she killed Asahi tomorrow, he didn't know how he was going to pull her back from that.

 **oOo**

The first thing he did when he miserably made it into the dark interior of the assigned room he rarely used now, was to pull out the item that Ami had slipped into his pocket. It was an ancient, prepaid, flip-phone. Probably a burner, and more than likely a way for Ami to communicate with him.

After carefully inspecting it only to find nothing of interest in the messages or call history, he sighed and tossed it onto the small, crookedly placed table beside his bed where it fell onto its scuffed surface with a resounding thud.

He couldn't dwell on what he was going to do about Ami right now. First, he needed to figure out what he was going to do about his set back with Usagi.

The rest of the night was spent restlessly; tossing and twisting in cold, crumpled sheets. Horrifying images flashing through his barely unconscious mind… nightmares within a damn nightmare. He woke often, the time ticking by at an unbearably slow rate, his eyes flicking towards his closed door often. He was secretly torn between the hope that Usagi would give in and show up at his door versus his need for her to stay away. To give him space to think clearly and devise something semi-practical so that he wasn't just wading around like an idiot trying to figure out his next move.

Either way, he was not in a great place the next morning when he peeled himself out of bed, forcibly ignored the dull throbbing ache at the base of his skull, and readied himself to face whatever the hell kind of horrors had been lined up for him and his puppeteered friends today.

He half expected someone to fetch him and escort him from the room to wherever it was that Usagi wanted him placed next. He wasn't, though, and he supposed that he should be grateful with the progress he'd made in that _way_ at least. He'd earned enough trust to have been granted the ability to roam freely and unsupervised.

He was still exhausted when he left his room, and his mind wasn't as sharp as it should have been. So, it took him a moment to understand why there was a gathering group of Kyodai and Shatei, making their way down the hall and onto the Veranda.

He inhaled sharply and the blood drained from his face as he stepped back, his eyes wildly darting from one somber-faced expression to the next. It elicited a sickening feeling that blossomed in the pit of his stomach with the rising panic coursing through him. He wasn't sure why he'd assumed that he was going to have more time to handle this. He'd wanted to find and speak with Makoto before Usagi and Kunzite went through with _anything_ , but it looked like it was too late now. Because there was only one reason the Kyodai would be gathering like this; a demonstration or an order from Kunzite to witness a show of power.

He spat out a harshly muttered curse, barreling through the door and two sneering-faced brutes before making his way out onto the veranda. Kunzite and Usagi were nowhere to be seen, so he let himself hope, for just a moment, that he was wrong before he spotted the familiar stiffened shoulders and chestnut brown hair that belonged to Makoto.

When the Senshi of Jupiter whirled around to face him, his heart clenched and his breath caught in his throat at the look on her face. It wasn't enough that her appearance itself was ragged, pale complexion, dark, bruise-like circles just above gaunt angled cheekbones. It was the haunted, burden-filled look glistening from the muted green glint in her eyes. Makoto had been pulled through something dark in this nightmare, and he was loathed to find out what it was.

Her expression remained unchanged as he sidled up next to her, his heart pounding, his palms clammy as he swallowed past the nervous lump in his throat and bravely met her gaze; a clash of broken-hearted green and wary cobalt blue.

She exhaled, shook her head, shoulders slumped with sadness. "I tried to stall for as long as I could, Mamoru," she whispered, her tone filled with regret. "But I wasn't alone."

He wanted to ask her more about it, to find out what had happened to instill that pained look in her eyes, but he was forced to snap his mouth shut, automatically stiffening, as the low, bone-chilling baritone of Kunzites arrogant voice rang out over the crowd.

"The Tsukino's have _always_ been a force to be reckoned with," he began, and Mamoru's gaze snapped towards the front of the crowd of men that had suddenly gone silent. He didn't miss the apprehension-filled looks exchanged around him. Usagi had been right about one thing. The Kyodai and the Shatei had apparently faltered in their unwavering fear of the Tsukino's.

It didn't faze the silver-haired general, whose arrogance and need for attention drove him to continue. "I know it might _seem_ like things have been a bit _unsteady_ with Tumicho Tsukino lately," he placated, icy blue eyes flashing coldly as they briefly swept over Mamoru. "And, it's really been truly _disheartening_ to hear that some of you are under the impression that this momentary lapse in my sister's disposition might be an opportunity for you to take your leave from the comforting folds of the Tsukino family." Kunzites words were truncated, piercing, and the more he spoke, the more terrifying he sounded.

The unspoken threat intensified the silence around him, wary eyes fixed onto the man who had, up until this point, been second to the more terrifying Tumicho Tsukino.

The snake-like smile that slid onto Kunzites lips made Mamoru's stomach churn. "You all remember our friend Asahi?" Kunzite lifted his chin, nodding sharply with a gesture of his hand.

There was a synchronized shift of bodies and whispers as the group turned towards where Kunzite had indicated. The bile rose in Mamoru's throat, and Makoto stiffened beside him at the sight of Asahi, the man who'd once been a bruting, dangerous, muscled underling that had towered over him. Mamoru swallowed, fists clenched at his sides because that was not the same person who was being roughly pulled by an armed Kyodai through the veranda's lattice doors. This man was a pale shadow compared to that; pale, gaunt, torn, dirty clothing as he stumbled unsteadily on his feet.

The murmured cacophony of hushed, harsh whispers that broke out intensified uncomfortably as Asahi was pushed to his knees in front of Kunzite. He didn't fight it; a resigned, broken slump in his shoulders as he peered up through strings of greasy hair at the gathered crowd in front of him.

Kunzite chuckled, amused, and Mamoru had to avert his gaze for a moment to control the rage that began to course through his veins. "Asahi thought that he might take advantage of my sister's perceived weakness, _too,"_ he chided with a mocking disapproving click of his tongue. "Well, let me remind you _exactly_ what Tumicho Tsukino does to the betrayers that bite the hands that feed them."

He heard Makoto's disbelieving gasp before his eyes fell onto Usagi who'd slipped through the door and was approaching her brother and the kneeling man that had abandoned them at Jadeite's.

Mamoru's breath caught in his throat, and the whispers intensified in its volume and distrustful pervasiveness because it was not Tumicho Tsukino that stepped out of the shadows of the towering mansion, but his Usako. _It had to be._ Because, for the first time since he'd laid eyes on Usagi in this world, she was not dressed impeccably with sleek, perfectly styled hair, a hardened look like polished marble veneer on her face, wearing impossibly high stiletto heels. She was a frazzled, pale mess in leggings, an oversized sweater, and a pair of flats with a hastily crafted braid swinging down the length of her back with every one of her movements.

Even the way she moved was more like Usako, uncertain in her gait. Her face pale, with shadows flashing in her eyes.

She looked absolutely torn to shreds over what she was about to do, and it elicited a hope that flared hotly in Mamoru's chest as his body coiled, tensing in anticipation for what was about to happen next.

The confidently smug look faded from Kunzite's face as a disapproving frown furrowed his brow. "Quiet!" he snapped loudly, instantly silencing the whispering crowd. "Tumicho Tsukino," he spat, turning towards Usagi who halted in front of them, her eyes flicking from a kneeling Asahi to Kunzite. "I present you with the scum that abandoned you in your moment of need," Kunzite hissed, leaned forward, roughly grasped her wrist and, without breaking eye contact with his sister, he transferred a gun into her palm, forcibly curling her fingers around the handle.

Mamoru couldn't breathe, fighting the desperate urge to _stop this_ as Kunzite leaned forward, his face inches from Usagi's. "Show them what we do to traitors."

It was as if time slowed as Mamoru watched with horror as Usagi nodded, her lips pressed into a thin, determined line as she twisted her body, took a step forward, and lifted the gun, pressing the barrel onto the back of Asahi's head.

Makoto whimpered beside him, shuddering in her horror, and he wanted to comfort her, but he couldn't pull his eyes off of Usagi's face. _She didn't want to do this._ And he couldn't stand that she was being forced to do it, as she visibly swallowed and he watched her steel her resolve.

Mamoru took an involuntary step forward, ignored the indignant huff from the Kyodai that he shouldered as he pushed past him. _Please, Usako._ He silently willed with everything in him, with every piece of his soul that might still be connected to the beautiful brightness that was _still_ the love of his life, _not to do this._

For a second he thought that she was going to do it, her finger poised on the trigger, flexing dangerously close to releasing the bullet that would pierce through Asahi's head and any hope that he might have of pulling her out of this life. But then, her hand shook ever so slightly when Asahi whimpered, trembling, clawing at the wooden panels of the deck beneath him. "Please," he pleaded in a desperate breath of air. "I just wanted to live."

Usagi's lips quivered as they parted on a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes widened before they slowly pulled away from Asahi and searched the crowd of Kyodai, frantically darting over the faces before her gaze finally connected with his.

He held her stare for what seemed like hours, but was probably only seconds, silently conveying the reassurance he knew that she was searching for. He knew the moment that she decided not to do it, and relief unlike anything he'd ever known washed through him, pulling the coiled tension from his muscles with a deep, cleansing exhale of breath.

Her nod was imperceptible, just a quick snap of her chin as a wisp of a resigned smile curled onto her lips, and the hand clutching the gun fell limply to her side.

The ticking of the clock that had slowed in those few, defining moments, seemed to speed up to a normal rate as Kunzite practically roared in disbelief. "What are you _doing?"_

It was a demand, and the others around him shifted, varying expressions of satisfaction, disbelief, and wariness on their faces. Except for Makoto, whose eyes widened with awe and a growing sense of hope that mirrored his own.

Usagi lifted her chin proudly, defiantly facing down her brother. "I don't want to do this," she exclaimed with conviction. "I forgive him."

He knew those words were meant for him in response to his pleas the night before, and while the pride and anticipation swelled in his chest, they infuriated Kunzite who had, apparently, reached his limit.

With an exploding roar of disbelief and a rage-filled snarl, the general pulled out another gun that was holstered to his hip and, without a moment of hesitation, he stepped forward, pressed the tip of the barrel to the back of Asahi's head and pulled the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot was deafening, and Mamoru bit the inside of his lip, flinching as he cringed away from the gruesome sight of splattering blood, and the sound of Asahi's final, gargling gasp as he slumped forward and his mangled head hit the wooden planks with a final, sickening thump.

The others did not seem fazed by it, except for Makoto who'd crossed her arms and averted her gaze, visibly flinching with horrified disgust.

Usagi didn't falter either, boldly fixing blue, determination-filled eyes onto her brother whose body was shuddering in his rage. "What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!"

All pretenses of a power-play washed away. Kunzite was too angry to put on a show for his underlings as he turned all of his frustrations onto the sister that he'd never had challenged him before. It terrified Mamoru who, without thinking, pushed through the Kyodai, his strides hurried as he stepped over Asahi's lifeless body to stand protectively beside Usagi.

Mamoru meant to pull her away from the swirling darkness around Kunzite, but the sight of him standing resolutely beside Usagi must have been enough to send the hot-headed, anger-filled Kunzite over the edge.

With a roar of unfettered rage, Kunzite dove towards him, catching Mamoru off guard as his fist connected with his jaw. The pain was sharp, instantaneous, and the edges of his vision blurred as his head snapped to the side with the force of the impact. He stumbled back a step and barely managed to catch his balance as he narrowly avoided falling to the ground.

Usagi screamed, horrified, as Kunzite lifted his gun, and aimed it at this chest.

Mamoru, as Tuxedo Kamen, had developed many skills over the years, and he attributed his quick reflexes to his masked alter ego as he skillfully barreled into Kunzite, powerfully gripped his gun-bearing wrist, and attempted to wrestle the weapon from his grasp without accidentally firing it.

They crashed to the ground, a flurry of black and silver as Kunzite snarled, overpowered him —his rage giving him an edge over Mamoru's survival-based instincts— and straddled him. Mamoru grunted with the strength it took to forcibly twist Kunzite's wrist to the side, intercepting his attempt to point the gun at him.

The perspiration was beading on Mamoru's forehead, as he gasped for breath, his only focus trying to force the gun out of Kunzites grasp when, suddenly, he was met with no resistance from the silver-haired general.

Two things registered simultaneously; first was the sharp click of a gun being cocked, and the second was that Kunzite had suddenly stopped trying to press the barrel of his weapon onto his head.

"Get away from him, Kunz."

Usagi's voice was steady, threatening, and Mamoru's gaze slid from the hardened contours of Kunzites fury filled expression to Usagi that stood beside him, her weapon clutched in her hand, and her gun trained warningly onto Kunzite.

Kunzite let out a bark of disbelieving laughter as he dropped his gun, fixed his gaze on hers, and stood, stepping away from Mamoru that instantly sucked in a breath of air, unimpeded by Kunzite's weight on his chest.

He noted briefly that their audience stood, waiting, eyes transfixed on the scene in front of them as if they were enjoying their daily dose of dark, twisted entertainment. Unwilling to intervene for leaders that they hated, and had once feared. Makoto was the only one that stood on the edge, muscles tensed, coiled and ready to spring into the fray should it appear that anything was going to happen to Usagi.

Kunzite laughed again, this time mockingly, as Mamoru propelled himself to his feet. Ignoring the way his head swam dizzily with the abrupt movement. "What are you going to do, Usagi?" Kunzite hissed, his eyes levelly meeting Usagi's who stood, chin tilted up proudly, her resolve unwavering. There wasn't even a twitch of hesitation in her stance, except for the way her fingers tightened their grip around the handle in warning as Kunzite took a tentative step towards her.

The disbelieving, smug-tinged expression faded from Kunzite's features, as it finally occurred to the silver-haired general that Usagi was dead serious. He shook his head slowly. "Why, Usagi?" he choked, "why would you destroy everything we've built for _him?"_

Mamoru's breath hitched as he scrutinized Usagi's reaction. _Why, indeed?_ Was it too much to hope that maybe _now_ she would admit what was clear as day to everyone present?

Usagi considered her brother for a moment, visibly swallowing before she answered. "Because he's _mine,_ Kunzite." Mamoru released the breath he'd been holding with disappointment. _Of course._ He knew the nightmares were built to make things _hard._ But, fuck. This was getting _ridiculous_ now. "And, I didn't do it for him," she continued. "I did it for me."

Her words evoked pride and relief that warmly washed over him. She'd come so damn far in the few weeks that they'd been trapped here together, and it only further cemented the glaring, beautiful truth that _no matter what_ monster they tried to mold her into, his Usako would always breakthrough.

It was silent for a moment as the two contrived siblings faced each other, their eyes locked unwaveringly onto the other when finally, Kunzite spoke. "I'm in charge now, Usagi. You have no claim to Tumicho Tsukino anymore."

There was a dissonance of rising whispers at the harshly whispered statement, but he ignored them, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Usagi, breath held, as he studied her reaction to Kunzite's dismissal.

Tumicho Tsukino would have snarled, kicked, or killed anyone that had dared to defy her position; power had been everything to Tumicho Tsukino. He'd managed to banish that character though, and this person standing in front of them was a remorse-filled Usako. She nodded curtly once, her expression pale and resolute as she lowered her gun, let it slip from her grasp where it fell, bouncing off of the wood with a thud that echoed with resounding finality.

Tumicho Tsukino was gone, and everyone knew it.

Without another word, she swiveled around, still graceful, even more so without the heels, and swept past him. Pushing her way through the crowd of Kyodai that were rendered speechless at the loss of their current leader.

He met Makoto's wide-eyed gaze, and the brunette gestured animatedly towards Usagi's disappearing figure. "Well? Go after her," she urged quietly.

It snapped him out of his daze, and with a nod, the anticipation unfurling in his chest, he moved to follow her.

"Chiba!" Kunzite's command halted him in his tracks, and he coolly met his gaze over his shoulder. Kunzite seemed to have reigned in the hot-headed temper that seemed to have a firm grasp on the general's personality in this world. "I'm in charge now. Watch your back."

Kunzite's warning was clear. He was only letting him go because he still, on some twisted level, respected and loved his sister. But, he would find a way to make sure that he wasn't around for much longer. Mamoru nodded wordlessly and moved through the crowd towards where Usagi had disappeared into the house. He didn't want to be around for much longer, either. He just hoped that he'd banished some of Usagi's stubbornness along with the ruthless, Tumicho Tsukino. Because, at this rate, he'd be dead before he pulled a confession from her.

 **oOo**

He couldn't find her. He'd searched the whole manor; his movements brisk as he carefully avoided the other Kyodai whose hardened eyes followed him with an array of wary, unsure, and menacing looks that filled him with a sense of urgency. It was apparent, after Kunzites display, that there had been a definite shift in power amongst the Tsukino's, and he was the reason for it.

It was only after narrowly avoiding an altercation with a group of Kunzite's more devout followers that he ran into Makoto in the hall. She stood resolute, eyes wide, face flushed, and shoulders tensed. Her expression etched with the same panic-ridden feelings that were currently coursing through him, as she turned to face him.

"Did you find her?" She demanded as she grasped his arm, slender fingers pressing almost painfully into his skin as her eyes, filled with urgency, met his.

He exhaled miserably and shook his head. "No, I've looked everywhere."

She let out a string of harsh, frustrated-filled expletives, and took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, as if to collect herself, before opening them again to fix her hardened, determined gaze back onto his face. "Mamoru," she began, her tone curt, "you need to go to your room and lay low. I'll find her and send her to you."

He opened his mouth, fully intending to protest, but was promptly interrupted by Makoto. "I'm serious, Mamoru," she snapped, "you're going to die if you stay out here and let me tell you, I have no intention of remaining trapped in this hell hole with Minako's psychotic, supposed-to-be-dead, ex-boyfriend."

Her tone left no room for argument, and he snapped his mouth shut, brow furrowed as he carefully considered her words. The role he was playing here had definitely become tenuous. Which didn't _really_ matter because _his_ Usako had finally fought through the cruel chords of Tumicho Tsukino and _won_. Her admission had to be inevitably close now, except —as Makoto had blatantly pointed out— if he were killed before they found her, it would all be for nothing.

He exhaled slowly and nodded with resigned acquiescence. "Be careful, Makoto," he acceded softly.

The wisp of a sardonic smile curled onto her lips as she pulled away. "I've never been more careful in my life," she replied, and there was an underlying meaning in her words that he didn't understand. "Go. Avoid everyone. I'll send her to you when I find her."

With that, the brunette strode away without a glance backward. Her gait purposeful and confident, which was fitting for the Senshi of Jupiter.

He didn't linger, his mind racing as he made his way through the maze of hallways. He didn't know how long he was going to be able to hide away in his room; the need to find Usagi coiled tightly in his chest, especially knowing that she was somewhere, alone and vulnerable after what had just happened.

He was contemplating ways to safely navigate the mansion, inwardly wishing he'd made more connections in his time here when he opened the familiar plain-handled door to his room.

It was midday, the artificial lighting unnecessary as the sun's position was perfectly aligned with the lone window, bathing the room in natural light.

He froze, inhaling sharply, because there, in the middle of his small twin bed, was Usagi. She looked so little; legs tucked into her chest, head buried in her knees, her hair, loose, and tumbling around her like a curtain of golden silk.

She must have heard the door open and close, but she didn't even look up as he took a tentative step towards the bed. His heart racing and twisting painfully in his chest. Because, even though this had been his intention from the beginning, the only way that he could think of to bring her back to him, it still hurt like hell to see her like this; small, trembling and clearly broken-hearted over a life that wasn't even hers.

He swallowed past the lump of emotion in his throat, slowly knelt onto the edge of the bed. The weight of his knees pressing into the mattress dipped and shifted her position as he hesitantly lifted his hands and reached out for her.

"Usako?"

He kept the tenor of his tone purposefully soft, unsure what to expect, as his fingers lightly grazed her arms that were coiled protectively around her bent knees.

The breath caught in his throat when she lifted her head, red-rimmed, china-blue eyes met his, and the miserable confusion etched into the contours of her delicate features ripped violently at his heartstrings.

Her lips trembled, and her eyes welled with tears. "Is this what you wanted, Mamoru?" She demanded, her tone harsh, and breaking with barely restrained emotion. "Was this how you wanted me? Powerless and filled with nothing but— but—" she stuttered, choking on a whimpered sob.

He couldn't help the groan that involuntary clawed its way from his throat or the way his hands shook, and his arms trembled as he roughly pulled her into his arms. At first, she was tense, her body unyielding as he pulled her onto his lap, wrapped one arm around her waist and tucked her head beneath his chin with the other. His fingers weaving through the endless strands of her hair. It didn't last long, and soon she gave in to her despair; body quivering, her chest heaving with anguish-filled sobs that tore through the silence and through his heart. The full weight of her body slumped against his chest; sapped of energy, limbs limp as her sobs subsided into weary whimpers.

He felt her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as she lifted her face away from his chest. "I don't have anything," she sniffled, her voice so low, he almost didn't hear it. "All I feel is pain and guilt, and I don't know who I am anymore. I just know that I don't want to be who I was."

His heartbeat quickened, breath hitched in his throat as he tightened his arms around her, and listened quietly to her self-revelations.

He heard her breathe in deeply, felt it's calming effects beneath his fingers pressed onto her back when she pulled away slightly and peered up at him. Her lashes still laced with tears, but her eyes filled with more than just despair and confusion. "Will you help me get away from here? From this life, Mamoru?"

He could have wept at her whispered plea, because that was all he wanted. He wanted to rip her away from this world more than anything, and it was so damn frustrating because all he needed to hear were the words. The admission for feelings that he knew, without a doubt, was already there.

He groaned, pressed his forehead onto hers, and took a deep cleansing breath. "Yes," he whispered brokenly. "That's all I want for you, Usako. I love you."

He waited with bated breath for her answer. The reciprocating words that he _needed_ to hear and was met with crushing disappointment that accompanied her response.

She sighed softly, pulled out of his arms, and twisted away from him so that she was kneeling on the bed, her back facing him; shoulders slumped, head bent forward, and arms wrapped around her midsection in misery. "I know what you want me to say, Mamoru," she murmured, her tone despondent. "I don't think I'm capable of love."

He tensed, inwardly cursing, because, _yes_ she _fucking_ was, and when he got them out of this, he was going to plunge his fist into the chest that belonged to the creator of these nightmares, rip out its heart, and destroy it for what it was doing to her.

He leaned forward, swept her hair off of her shoulder, and pressed his lips onto the crook of her neck. "You're wrong, Usako," he whispered against her skin, eliciting a shudder through her body as he curled his arms around her waist with hers and pulled her against him. "You do love me, Usako. Say it. Please."

She trembled in his arms, her breathing quickening in response to the intensity in his tone. "I…" she trailed off, and he waited, with bated breath, inwardly pleading with her to say the damn words. "I _can't,"_ she whimpered. "Please, don't push me. I don't want— I can't give you what you _want,_ Mamoru. But, you're all I have left."

His heart constricted painfully in his chest as she began to whimper again in earnest. He knew, with everything in him, that he should have pushed her harder. She was vulnerable, and her admission was _right there._ He could feel it. If this were any of the other nightmares, he might have. But, she'd been stretched so damn thin already, and he couldn't do it. He couldn't press her for it.

He knew they were running out of time. Between Kunzite and Ami and everything that had just transpired, he was running the risk of losing everything. But the sight of her tears, the way she shook, brokenly curled up in his arms and the sound of her truncated, agonized sobs echoing in his head was enough to make him falter.

"Mamoru, please don't leave me."

Her whispered plea pierced through his thoughts, and he grit his teeth, clenched his eyes shut and tightened his arms around her. "God, Usako," he replied with a groan. "I thought it was obvious that I would never leave you. No matter what."

She exhaled slowly, relieved, as the tension left her body, and she leaned back against him. "Will you hold me for a little while? I'm tired, but I don't want to be alone."

He nodded, and wordlessly he moved to lay on his back beneath the threadbare blanket on his bed and pulled her down beside him. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and she nestled her head in the crook of his shoulder, pressing her body flush against his, thigh draped across his waist, and blonde hair splayed out across his chest.

He fixed his gaze on the ceiling, comfortingly trailing his fingers down the length of her spine when her breathing evened, and he was sure that she'd fallen asleep. "Mm, Mamoru. You're the only one I trust," she murmured sleepily just as a trill sounding 'ding' pierced the silence in the room.

His brow furrowed, and he made sure that she'd fallen asleep before he craned his neck to the side in search of the source of the noise that trilled loudly, once again.

His heart skipped a beat, and his breath caught in his throat because the sound had emanated from the small flip phone that Ami had slipped into his pocket. The dread that twinged in his chest intensified as he carefully leaned over with his free hand, and quietly flipped it open.

His eyes narrowed, and he swallowed nervously because on the small screen was a text message labeled unknown number, with an address, time and date. Ami wanted to meet him tomorrow at noon.

With a frustrated sigh, he flipped the phone shut, and it was loud enough that Usagi stirred in his arms. He winced, breath held, as she nestled more deeply against him and fell back asleep. He watched her sleep for a while, his mind racing, heart rate erratic, until his eyelids, of their own accord, fluttered shut and he fell into a restless, exhaustion induced sleep.

His last thought before he drifted off to sleep was that he knew, without a doubt, that this would all be over tomorrow.

 **oOo**

Leaving the manor had been much easier than expected. Slipping out undetected surprisingly the easiest thing he'd had to do in this nightmare so far. When he'd woken up alone, promptly beginning to contemplate possible excuses that would allow him to leave and meet Ami as requested, he'd been fully prepared to face a slew of obstacles.

First, he'd briefly considered ignoring the message altogether, but opted against that course of action as the very last thing he wanted was to have Ami, and the cops, raid the manor again, potentially blowing his cover and ruining everything.

He was still trying to devise a relatively solid plan as he pulled a clean shirt over his head, dressing quickly, when the door flew open, the wood hitting the wall with a dull thud, and Usagi strode into the room.

For a moment, his heart stopped, because Usagi was dressed in the styled, perfectly polished-like-marble-veneer, that was a Tumicho Tsukino signature, with another pair of stupid high-heels. Luckily, he noted with relief that there was none of this nightmare's darkness glinting from her eyes as they quickly scanned the room before settling onto him; shining with the worried, vulnerable brightness that was his Usako.

With her lower lip poised between her teeth, she swept towards him, her movements filled with urgency as she grasped his wrist and pressed a set of keys into his hand. "Mamoru," she rasped. "You need to leave. My brother is on a rampage, and I'm afraid of what he'll do to you if you stay."

His brow furrowed, confused because he had no intention of leaving this place without her. "Usako," he began with a firm shake of his head. "Come with me."

If she'd agreed to leave with him, there would have been no reason to meet Ami at the address indicated, and, without the distraction of the nightmare that was the Tsukino family in this place, coaxing a confession from her probably would have been much easier.

This nightmare was particularly complex in its obstacles, though, because Usagi, eyes glinting with determination, vehemently shook her head. "I can't leave yet, Mamoru." He couldn't help but sigh with exasperation as he gritted his teeth in frustration at her response. Would it be a huge setback if he were to pick her up, toss her over his shoulder, and carry her out of here against her will?

The thought was fleeting, though thoroughly tempting, and his fingers flexed around the cold metal and plastic of the keys in his hand.

"Why not?"

His tone was harsher than intended, and she returned her sigh with a wistful smile; a smile so reminiscent of his Usako that he couldn't figure out why she was being so damn reticent about just saying that she loved him.

She stepped toward him, curled slender fingers into the fabric of his shirt, as the rueful hues of sapphire blue settled onto cobalt blue. "Because, I need to take care of some things first," she explained, and he scoffed, an involuntary sound that quirked the corners of her lips into an amused half-smile. "Mamoru, I was essentially the leader of the most infamous drug smuggling ring in all of Tokyo _two_ days ago. I can't just walk away from that without tying up loose ends."

His brow furrowed, incensed, because what the hell kind of loose ends was she talking about? The Usagi of this world was such a tightly woven mixture of the character that had been created for her and the woman he loved, that he was getting whiplash from the unpredictability of her actions.

"What _kind_ of loose ends, Usako?"

His tone was filled with suspicion, as his arms curled around her waist, and he hauled her against him.

He heard her sharp intake of breath as her body tensed in his embrace before she exhaled and chuckled softly. "I didn't pull the trigger, Mamoru," she reminded him of Asahi, lifting a delicate hand to cup the side of his face. "I love my brother, Mamoru. And you're just going to have to trust me."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she stopped him mid-sentence as she leaned forward and pressed her lips onto his. Her movements were practiced, frenzied, and he groaned into her mouth as she effectively stoked the burning heat in between them.

When she pulled away, he was breathless, dazed, and confused as she smiled and twirled out of his arms.

Before she pulled him into the hall, tugging him through the maze of the manor, and practically forcing him into a waiting black sedan in the driveway, she'd casually slipped a phone into his hand.

"My number is on that phone, Mamoru, but I will call you as soon as I'm ready to go," she'd explained with a wink, a swish of shapely hips before she'd just left him there to confidently stride back up the walkway, and back into that house.

The cold dread settling in the pit of his stomach and in the cavity of his chest twinged, widened and twisted uncomfortably. He should have gone after her, said _no,_ and forced her into the passenger seat of the car. Instead, despite every instinct in his body, he'd pulled the car out of the driveway, slowly navigating the unbearably congested traffic of Kyoto city to navigate his way to the address that Ami had texted him.

He wasn't sure what to expect. He wasn't really an undercover cop, and though the guidelines of this nightmare had followed the poorly written threads of an action movie, he was still surprised when he smoothly pulled the car into park in front of Kyoto Kasotori international shooting range.

He twisted the key in the ignition, promptly killing the engine. The ensuing silence in the cab of the car was practically deafening as he let his head fall back onto the leather upholstered headrest of the driver's seat, fingers gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles whitened, as he took a deep, cleansing breath in preparation for whatever the hell was going to happen next.

When he felt like he was suitably mentally prepared, he exited the car. The sound of the door slamming shut echoed loudly in the parking lot around him, and he grimaced, his heart racing, as he made his through the gaps between parked cars towards a lone white brick building with a faded wooden sign etched with 'reception' in black, blocky letters above the door.

As far as shooting ranges went, this particular one was probably a tinge on the shady side, and he briefly wondered if this place existed in the real Kyoto, or if it was just a construct of this nightmare, as he stepped through the front door.

Immediately, his ears were assaulted with the sounds of firing weapons, and he flinched, caught off guard, before stepping towards a stooped, white-haired man that was leaning over a scuffed, L-shaped desk.

He wasn't even really sure what the hell he was going to _ask_ him. Had he met Ami in this place before? Was he supposed to know what the hell he was doing?

Silently raging at the injustice of all the _unknown_ that plagued him in this nightmare, he stopped short when the man's head snapped up at his approach, and his thin-set lips widened into a toothy grin.

"She's waiting for you in section 6; firing lane 3."

Mamoru nodded, relieved that he didn't have to wade through the semantics of an awkward conversation with him, at least, as he turned left, and stepped through opened reinforced steel doors towards where the man had indicated with a terse tilt of his head and a gestured flick of his wrist.

It wasn't difficult to find, and his pulse quickened nervously as his eyes scanned over the people he passed, his brow furrowed with curiosity. Men, women, and even younger children, all using a variety of guns he couldn't begin to identify, backs to him, as they took turns firing at targets across indoor fields of synthetic grass at hanging targets.

The lanes on either side of section 6 were empty, and he sighed as his gaze fixed onto the curve of familiar tense shoulders, and the signature cropped blue hair that belonged to the former Senshi of Mercury.

He stood silently behind her for a moment, his heart beating in tandem with every rapid-fire shot that burst from the revolver that she held firmly in her hands. Her arms lifted, extended stiffly, and her expression fierce as the bullets from her gun pierced through the target with startling accuracy.

The personality crafted for Ami here, from what he'd seen anyway, was the opposite of the calm, rational girl that he knew, and there was an angry air that vibrated with anguished intensity around her.

It made him nervous, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably when she stopped shooting and spared him a cursory glance over her shoulder.

She didn't say anything at first as she turned back towards the field and fired another round of bullets. The sound was deafening, and he didn't have to wonder why the other patrons on the range were wearing noise-canceling earphones anymore.

Finally, she lowered her gun, the silence ringing almost as loudly as the shots fired, and gracefully twisted her torso to face him. Her expression was difficult to read, and he couldn't help but swallow, disconcerted, as her eyes swept over him, a small crease puckered on her brow.

He couldn't quite pinpoint the look in her eyes when they finally settled on his face, though he was sure he'd seen relief flash through them momentarily. "Good," she stated steadily. "I wasn't sure if you were going to come."

That statement did not bode well for the pretend role he was trying to uphold here, and he suppressed a grimace as he took a step towards her; forcibly keeping his expression neutral. "Of course. Why wouldn't I come?" he scoffed and hoped to God that she couldn't see right through his façade.

Her eyes narrowed, lower lip poised between her teeth, before she shook her head with a frustrated sigh. "I don't know, Mamoru," she snapped, her tone laced with uncertainty and anger. "You're _different."_ She visibly swallowed, her cheeks reddening as she quickly averted her gaze. "And, we've been partners for a long time. I couldn't take any chances."

His heart skipped a beat, and he frowned in confusion, because, what the hell did that even mean? "What are you talking about?" he demanded, taking another step towards the bluenette that simply shrugged nonchalantly as she boldly met his gaze.

Instead of responding, she extended her gun toward him, expertly flipping the weapon with a flick of her wrist to offer him the handle. "Aren't you going to take a turn shooting, Mamoru?" she responded coolly with a questioning quirk of a lapis-colored eyebrow.

It was almost as if she was challenging him, and he swore that his heart stopped beating for a second as his breath caught in his throat. His eyes flicked nervously from her face to the offered weapon.

It didn't matter _what_ side he was supposedly on. They were all trying to get him to use a gun. He briefly contemplated whether or not there was any significance to that as he, with a loud sigh of resignation, curled his fingers around the cold, uncomfortable weight of the revolver.

Ami promptly crossed her arms, brows raised expectantly, as he tentatively took a step towards the faded yellow line that glared up at him from the concrete in front of the field. He could feel the perspiration beading on his brow as he planted his feet where he assumed he was supposed to be standing.

He could see the way Ami's eyes narrowed, her lips pursed, in his peripheral vision as he lifted the gun and attempted to mirror the bluenette's stance from memory. _Damn_. Give him back his tuxedo and the ability to use his signature _Tuxedo_ _la smoking bomber_ attack, and he could probably blow the hanging piece of taunting target paper to smithereens without a second thought. But, a _gun?_ In a shooting range? That wasn't even _real_ because this whole thing was a fucking _nightmare? Of course_ he'd overthink that, and his hands shook, the tendons in his arms flexing nervously as his index finger — _was this even the right way to hold this? —_ hovered for a moment above the trigger.

He probably should have spent less time stressing out about the fact that he was going to shoot a gun, and more time trying to aim because the bullet didn't even graze the target. Not by a longshot.

He cringed at the sharp inhale beside him. Maybe nightmare-cop-Mamoru was just as bad at shooting as he was?

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you, Mamoru?" _Damn._ By the sharp tone in Ami's voice, it was clear that cop Mamoru _definitely_ knew how to shoot.

He risked a glance over at the blunette that was shaking her head in disbelief. "This is what I'm talking about," she snapped angrily. "When did you lose your ability to use a gun?"

He grimaced, the heat creeping up his neck as he turned to face her. "It was just an unlucky shot, Ami," he defended. "I was distracted."

She snorted angrily, cheeks blazing crimson red as she took a fury-filled step towards him. "Oh, I know you're distracted, Mamoru," she sneered, angrily prodding his chest with an index finger. "You let _Tumicho Tsukino_ suck you in! She's a cold-hearted, manipulative _monster!"_ Her voice broke with emotion, and the anguish tinged through the anger. "It's why I had to pull you out of there so that I could _end_ this. I _saw_ you kiss her in the hall, Mamoru, and I didn't want you there when everything goes down."

It took a second for her words to register, but when they did, his face blanched, his eyes widened, and he was sure that his heart stopped beating in his chest. Because, though he still held hope that he'd misheard her, the implication she'd uttered was that this meeting was a ploy to get him away from Usagi so that she could…

He didn't think about it as the gun slipped from his hand, fell onto the concrete with a sharp snap, as he grasped Ami by the shoulders. His eyes filled with pained urgency as he peered down into her startled expression. "What did you do, Ami?" he demanded hoarsely.

He was only dimly aware that he'd been lucky that he hadn't accidentally fired the gun when he'd carelessly dropped it to the ground, and that his fingers were pressing too tightly into Ami's skin, but he didn't _care._ He hadn't done all of this, gone through all that he had, just for it to end with Usagi behind bars.

Ami met his gaze with a scowling glare of her own. "I did what I needed to do. We have enough evidence on the Tsukino's, and you didn't _need_ to be there _anymore_."

It was like he'd been sucker-punched in the stomach. He should have followed his instincts. He should have pushed Usagi for an admission when he'd had a chance, and he should never have let her convince him to drive away.

An anguished expletive burst from his lips, and he abruptly released Ami and twisted on his heels to leave the shooting range. He ignored Ami's plea-filled scream, begging him to stop, as he tore through the sections and out into the reception area.

He didn't stop when the white-haired man glanced up, startled by his abrupt appearance, and he thought his racing heart might explode from his chest as he violently shoved the front door open and pressed through the parking lot towards the borrowed sedan.

He fumbled for the keys in his pocket, cursing as they slipped through his fingers twice before he unlocked the door and quickly slid into the driver's seat.

He was already pulling out of the lot; his movements panicked, tires squealing as he briefly spied Ami in the rear-view mirror.

He was furious as he smashed the palm of his hand onto the steering in frustration because he should have known. He should have fucking _known!_ There wasn't anything that was easy in these worlds. _Ever._ And every threaded instinct that he possessed had pleaded with him not to pull out of that Goddamn driveway.

He was angry, recklessly weaving in and out of traffic in his rush to get to her. What if he was too late? If only there were a way…

With another growl of self-deprecation, he clumsily fumbled through his pockets, nearly rear-ending the car in front of him, and pulled out the phone she'd given him before he'd stupidly left her behind.

He wasn't sure how he managed to find her number without crashing, but luckily, he managed, and she picked up on the second ring.

" _Mamoru, it's been less than an hour. I told you—"_

"Usako, listen to me. You need to find Makoto and get out of the manor right now."

There must have been something laced into the tone of his voice that alarmed her because she paused for a second before responding.

" _Why?"_

Her tone was sharp, filled with confusion, and he inhaled shakily, narrowly dodging another collision, before responding.

"Usako, I can't explain it to you right now, but you're in danger, and I need you to trust me now. Is there somewhere safe you can go?"

There was a pregnant pause, and he held his breath as he waited for her to respond. He wasn't sure how long it would be before the manor was raided, and they were all taken into custody.

" _All right, Mamoru,"_ she responded, and he could have wept with relief. " _Meet me at the warehouse. I want to know what the hell is going on."_

He swerved to another lane, slamming on the breaks behind a slow-driving vehicle and prayed that he'd given her enough of a head start to get out of there. Which, she wouldn't need if she would just admit that she loved him like he _knew_ that she did.

His brow furrowed in contemplation. Did a phone admission count? Could he even pull a confession from her right now? Should he even try?

 _Aw, what the hell._ "I love you, Usako."

There was a very audible sigh of irritation. " _Whatever, Mamoru. Get to the warehouse with an explanation pronto."_

He exhaled with resigned disappointment at her admittedly expected response as the line went dead. When a horn blared furiously behind him, he tossed the phone onto the front passenger seat, and focused solely on the road and getting to the Tsukino warehouse.

It felt like an interminable amount of time that painfully crawled by with the cars —that he _swore_ were purposefully slowing down and getting in his way— before he finally slammed on the breaks and screeched to a halt in front of the warehouse.

The Tsukino manor was not far from here, and he exhaled, relieved, at the sight of another sedan parked in front of the entrance. They'd made it here before him, which meant that he'd interceded in time.

It only occurred to him that he was going to need to concoct a suitable explanation for his impromptu demand to have her come here as he ducked under the partially opened steel loading dock door.

He'd been here several times over the course of the few weeks that he'd spent as a Tsukino Kyodai, so he was familiar with the interior where he'd spent hours moving crates. It was easy to navigate, even in the dim lighting, and a relieved smile curled onto his lips as Usagi came into view.

She looked annoyed, arms crossed, impatiently tapping the toe of one of her high-heeled shoes as she watched him approach with a scowl fixed onto delicate features. He was so focused on his elation that she was here, safe and sound, that he didn't see that she wasn't alone until he rounded the corner of a stack of towering boxes and she fully came into view.

Beside her was Makoto, face pale, lips pressed into a thin, grim line. Green eyes wide with anxiety-ridden fear. He internally groaned because, just beside her, was Kunzite. His face set into its usual, hard-headed, hot-tempered mask of anger that sullenly fixed onto him. Two of his armed, particularly brainless, Kyodai surrounded him.

Kunzite and his brute's presence, though severely unwelcome, was not the most disconcerting person that stood there, however, because standing beside him was the familiar angled features of a girl he was seeing for the first time in this nightmare.

Minako, scantily dressed in leather leggings and a red crop top, clung onto Kunzite like he was a buoy and she was drowning, lost at sea. When her blue eyes met his, they widened, filled with shock and… _recognition?_

He didn't have time to delve deeper into that as Usagi stepped towards him, and he noted, for the first time, that there was something akin to suspicion flashing in her eyes. "Mamoru!" She demanded, "the cops are _arresting_ and _raiding_ the manor as we speak. How did you know?

He opened his mouth to respond, his mind racing with a thousand reasonable explanations when he was promptly interrupted.

"He knows because he's a cop, Tumicho Tsukino."

His breath hitched, and his heart skipped a terrified beat in his chest as his gaze slid over to the source that had just revealed the _only_ thing that could ruin everything before he got them out of here. _Minako._

The blonde's lips were pursed, her eyes narrowed angrily, and her chin tilted upwards as she boldly glowered at him. He was at a loss for words, terrified, because how the hell had she known?

Kunzite growled with rage, "I _fucking_ knew it!"

The silver-haired general took a menacing step towards him, and Mamoru, still rooted to the spot, frozen in disbelief, didn't have time to react as the General plunged his fist into his abdomen.

The pain was intensely sharp and instantaneous as Mamoru gasped, his eyes watering, as he stumbled backward. He lifted his fist, prepared to strike back, when one of the Kyodai, towering, tattooed and brooding, quickly slipped forward and struck him again as he twisted behind him and sharply kicked the back of his legs, promptly bringing him to his knees.

Mamoru sucked in a pained breath of air, trying to recover quickly, as Kunzite pulled his gun, and, for what had to be the hundredth time in this nightmare, aimed it at his head.

With a bone-chilling glare at the Kyodai whose beefy hand was pressed onto his shoulder, keeping him on his knees, Usagi stepped in front of him, her stance stiff and defiant as she glared at Minako. "Your dumb blonde is missing way too many brain cells, Kunzite," she sneered. "Mamoru is _not_ a cop. Why the hell would he warn us if he was a cop?" She challenged hotly.

He could only watch in horror as everything unraveled and Minako cast him a cursory, _knowing,_ look over Usagi's shoulder. "Look, I know you're like the big, bad boss and all of that, but I _was_ a cop, remember?" Minako drawled, and Mamoru's heart sank with dread. Ami's words from their first encounter here filtered to the forefront of his mind.

" _But, he escaped Mamoru. They paid off that rookie cop, you know, the dumb blonde. Mina- something. And they got away."_

He raked his hands over his face in despair. How the hell had he let himself forget that?

Usagi shook her head in denial, her expression pained and furious. "You're lying!" She hissed defensively.

Mamoru's heart twisted, and he wished, more than anything, that he could spare Usagi the pain of what was about to happen next as he met Makoto's horror-filled gaze. The brunette's brow was knitted in confusion because, like a moron, he hadn't disclosed that information to Makoto either.

He'd made so many mistakes in this nightmare, and this one was going to be the one that ended it all for them. Makoto inhaled sharply as the apologetic message he'd conveyed with his gaze registered.

Minako giggled, the sound sickly sweet, as she reached down the scrap that was the front of her shirt and pulled a phone from her bra. Kunzite was coiled in anticipation, ready to attack, as Minako swiped at something on her screen.

With a gleeful exclamation of victory, Minako held up her phone to Usagi, a smug smile on her red-painted lips.

Usagi's face paled, a stark white color, as she sucked in a sharp breath of air and yanked the phone from Minako's grasp. Her eyes narrowed onto whatever Minako was showing her on the screen.

Mamoru's heart hammered against his ribcage, and he knew, without a doubt, that he needed to say something, or do something, _right now,_ before it was too late. "Usako," he pleaded and, once again, attempted to stand. He hissed through his teeth in pain as the Kyodai's grip tightened and he was sure something snapped in his shoulder.

Minako's smile was borderline malicious as she tapped a fingernail on the screen that Usagi was staring at in disbelief. "In thispicture, you can see Mizuno Ami at a retreat that we all attended last year, for cops. She's actually in uniform here. And beside her—" Minako's lips curled up into a chilling smile. " _That_ right _there_ is Chiba Mamoru, and from what _I_ remember, he and his partner have a personal vendetta against the Tsukino's because of the death of Zoisite. Her boyfriend and his best friend."

He didn't doubt that Usagi was staring at an incriminating photo right now, and it was clear that she believed Minako because of the heart wrenching look that twisted onto the beautifully delicate features on her face. He stopped struggling against the Kyodai restraining him when Usagi spun around on her heels to peer down at him.

The pain emanating from her was enough to make him want to scream with rage and weep in anguish.

She shook her head, her hand trembling as she held the screen out to him. "Is it true?" She rasped, "Are you a cop? Was this all some kind of vengeful ploy to destroy my family and me?"

He didn't even glance at the screen, holding her gaze with his. How could he save her now? What could he do to make her understand? "Usako, I love you."

It was the only thing he could manage to say, his eyes wide and pleading. His lack of denial was enough for Usagi though, and the strangled gasp of pain that ripped from her throat and spilled from her lips made his eyes water as it tore at his heart. _This wasn't fair._ Why would _anybody_ want to do this to her?

Kunzite was the calmest he'd seen him since the nightmare of this world had begun, and the white-haired general, expression hard and resolute, stepped towards Usagi, his gaze fixed firmly on his sister.

Mamoru's stomach churned as Kunzite pressed his gun into her hand. "Now, Usa," he demanded harshly, "kill him, now."

He couldn't breathe as Usagi stared down at the gun in her hand in frozen disbelief. He could pinpoint the exact moment that Tumicho Tsukino clawed her way back through the beautiful threads of his Usako. Her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a grim, determined line as her fingers tightened around the gun as she firmly met his gaze.

"You betrayed me," she whispered hoarsely, her words trembling with outrage and disbelief as she lifted the gun, blinded by Tumicho Tsukino's rage and steadily trained it on him.

It felt like time slowed as her finger hovered above the trigger, a rage-filled sneer curled angrily across gritted teeth. She was so consumed by fury, so brutally broken by what she thought he'd done, that she'd retreated behind the safety of her ruthless counterpart.

His breath hitches, ears ringing as the horror of this moment washed over him. He just needed a minute. Just a moment to delay this, break through the haze of her rage.

As if his silent plea had been answered, a sharply edged voice cut through the tension. "Wait! Usagi, don't do this."

Mamoru tore his gaze from Usagi and onto Makoto who suddenly stepped in front of him, effectively blocking him from Usagi's aimed weapon.

The brunette lifted her hands in supplication. "Please, I brought Mamoru here," she began, her tone soft, tentative, as if she were trying to negotiate with a terrorist or calm a feral animal. "He loves you, Usagi. More than anything in this world. I _promise_ you. He has not betrayed you."

He knew that Makoto meant well, but it was evident by the cold, unresponsive set in Usagi's eyes, that there was nothing there right now except for the cold, calculating rage that belonged to the contrived character of this world.

He knew what was going to happen an instant before Makoto did, and he couldn't help the horrified plea that tore from his lips. "Usako, stop! Please!"

This time he struggled in earnest against the Kyodai holding him, and he would have torn free until the second one, much stronger than the first, kicked him in the stomach, forcing him to remain on his knees.

His vision was blurry, gasping through his pain as he peered, bleary-eyed, in helpless disbelief at the proud, loyal Senshi of Jupiter. _He was too late._ Makoto knew it also, because her green eyes softened, resigned and understanding as they met his. "Save her."

It was the last thing Makoto said before Usagi pulled the trigger and the bullet ripped from the barrel of the gun and tore through Makoto's chest. He swore he heard the sickening impact of metal and flesh. The gargled, pained sound that bubbled from Makoto's lips, interlaced with Kunzite's bark of malicious laughter, as she crumpled to the ground would be embedded into his brain forever.

The bile rose in Mamoru's throat at the horrific sight, and he choked on a sob of horrified anguish as he slumped forward, eyes shut against the horrifying reality of what had just happened. This wasn't real. Makoto was still alive and strapped on a gurney in a lab somewhere, and so the grief didn't completely overwhelm him.

But _this_. This would _kill_ Usagi if she knew. If his Usako were somehow aware in there, this would tear her to shreds. The heart wrenching thought is what pulled his gaze back up to Usagi who stood, poised over the lifeless form of her former friend, her expression a mixture of cold and disbelieving.

"Well done, sister," Kunzite praised with a chuckle. "Now finish off this gutter rat so that we can go back to how things were before."

Usagi, almost in a numb daze, lifted her eyes from where they'd been fixed on Makoto to Kunzite's approving, steely blue eyes. "Like things were before?" She whispered, confused, and Mamoru's heart skipped a beat at the slight shake in her hand.

"Usako," he pleaded hoarsely, blinking back another onslaught of tears. "I know you're more than this. You don't want this. Please."

Usagi slid the sapphire hues of her eyes back onto him, and he could _see it._ The internal struggle that meant that this wasn't over after all.

Kunzite must have seen it too, because he growled in fury-filled frustration and roughly, almost violently, clasped her hands, curled them around the handle, and forcibly lifted her arms.

"Pull the fucking trigger, Usagi," he demanded sharply with a sneer curled over white teeth, as he took a step back, muscles coiled and tensed in anticipation.

Usagi hesitated, and her lower lip quivered as she stared down at him, and Mamoru waited, with breath held in his throat, as he watched the way her face contorted, eyes flashing with glimpses of emotion as she struggled to make her decision.

He _hated_ to see her like this. She _didn't_ deserve this, and she needed to know that no matter what she did next, it _wasn't_ her fault.

He mustered every ounce of strength and heartfelt emotion within him and conveyed it through his gaze that steadily met hers. The corners of his lips quirked up into a soft, forgiving smile, even as his eyes glistened with pain-filled tears. "Usako," he whispered, and she froze, lips parted, eyes wide. "This isn't your fault. I understand, and I love you. No matter what you do."

Kunzite and Minako both sneered, scoffing in amusement, but something flickered in the depth of Tumicho Tsukino's eyes, and he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was Usako.

He breathed a sigh of relief as her hands lowered, falling limply to her sides.

Kunzites laughter dissipated like a wisp of anger-filled smoke. "What are you doing? _Kill him,_ Usagi!"

Usagi shook her head, tears spilling from her eyes and sliding listlessly down pale cheeks. "I can't do it, Kunzite," she choked on a ragged breath of air.

Kunzite roared in disapproval, grasped her by the shoulders and twisted her towards him. "Why not?! He's a cop! He _tricked_ you, Usa!"

She craned her neck sideways, her pain-filled eyes meeting his, and Mamoru held his breath, the hope unfurling in his chest, constricting his throat with emotion. She was there. He could see it. _He could feel it._

And then, finally, it was _over._

"Because I love him, Kunzite," she admitted quietly, pulling away from her silver-haired brother to face him. "I love you, Mamo…"

She sucked in a pained breath of air, and he watched, this time with anguish, as the recognition flashed in her eyes as they slowly widened. "Mamo-chan."

He groaned, struggling against his captors as he tried to reach her. "Usa…"

Then, her gaze flicked from his onto the prone, lifeless corpse that belonged to Makoto, and he watched with horror as she crumpled to her knees with a strangled cry of absolute, heart-wrenching agony. "Mako-chan!"

He choked on a pained sob as he watched her claw at Jupiter's shirt, piercing cries of grief tearing from her throat as she pulled Makoto's head into her lap and fruitlessly pressed her fingers onto the gaping hole in Makoto's chest. "No. _No. No!_ Mako-chan, I'm sorry. Please don't be dead. _Please!_ "

Her anguish was so painfully palpable, it renewed his determination to get to her, and with a growl of rage, he fought, and elbowed one of the Kyodai in the groin. The Kyodai howled in pain, promptly snapping Kunzite out of his confused haze.

The silver-haired general roared furiously, as he stepped forward, a sneer on his face as he grasped the collar of Usagi's dress and forcibly hauled the broken-hearted love of his life to her feet. "What the _fuck_ is _wrong_ with you?!"

Usagi whimpered, flinching away from Kunzites rage, and the edges of Mamoru's vision turned red with rage when the silver-haired general violently shook her.

With all of the fury and energy he could muster, Mamoru plunged his fist into the second Kyodai's abdomen. The tattooed man gasped, instinctively releasing him, and Mamoru sprang to his feet, ignoring the sharp, stinging sensation in his shoulder blade from where the Kyodai had probably broken his collarbone and dove for the gun that Usagi had dropped in her grief.

Minako screamed as he scrambled for the weapon. Then, with it firmly in his grasp, he stood tall, and aimed it directly at Kunzite, cocking it loudly for good measure. "Let her go."

The only audible sound was Usagi's whimpers as Kunzite, with a disgusted curl of his lip, pushed Usagi into his arms. Mamoru deftly caught her and pulled her against him, one arm wrapped around her waist like a protective steel band, the other extended stiffly, aiming the gun at kunzite's head. Usagi was like a limp rag doll, too grief-stricken to stand, and he bore the brunt of her weight as she trembled and buried her face in his chest.

He wanted desperately to comfort Usagi, speak to his newly awakened

Moon Senshi, but he kept his gaze firmly locked on Kunzite and the gun poised in his hand as he faced off with the infuriated white-haired general who looked like revenge was going to be his sole purpose from now on.

He usually hated to hear the buzzing sound of a dream ending, but this time he was counting on it. _What the hell was taking so long?_

The sudden sound of wailing police sirens and the muffled demand to give in and exit the premises from just outside of the warehouse entrance broke through the tension.

Kunzite cursed furiously and snapped his fingers at the Kyodai who wordlessly stepped forward to flank him on either side. They were all armed, guns raised, as they twisted around to face the door.

Mamoru knew that soon the warehouse would be flooded with cops, and he didn't understand _why_ they hadn't been pulled from the nightmare yet. _He'd won their stupid game._ Usagi was _awake,_ and she remembered _everything_.

His arms tightened around her waist when she trembled, and he felt the adrenaline course through his veins as his gaze frantically scanned the surrounding area for a possible way to get them out of there. For whatever reason, they were stuck still here, and he wasn't going to waste precious time trying fighting off the contrived cops of this world, too.

His breath hitched as his eyes locked onto the partially covered loading dock doors that, if he remembered correctly, was never used. He didn't know if the door was locked, or how easy it was going to be to get through it, but it was their only chance now.

He couldn't afford the time it would take to come up with an alternate solution, because the steel doors on the other side of the warehouse screeched loudly as they scraped across the cement floors. That sound, intertwined with the thudding footsteps, the authoritative commands to surrender and the resonating shots from Kunzite and his cronies that began to fire with reckless abandon, was an indication that it was time for them to go.

Usagi tensed in his arms, her hands pressed onto her ears to ward off the noise, as he pushed forward and threw them both onto the cement floor, just narrowly avoiding a stray bullet.

Her eyes, wide, glinting with terror and desperation, tore at his heart as he sucked in a pained breath, ignored all of the sharp stinging aches in his body as he grasped her arm and hauled her back onto her feet.

He would have tugged her towards the door, their only means to get out of this warehouse, but he was met with resistance as she pulled him back towards the cops that were pressing closer and the steely, dead-eyed expressions of Kunzite and the Kyodai as they mercilessly attacked.

He yanked her back towards him, and she stumbled, falling weakly against his chest. "Usako," he hissed with urgency through gritted teeth. "We need to _go!_ What are you doing?"

She whimpered, struggling in his hold, as he wrestled to keep her in his arms as he took a step back towards the safety of the door. "Mako-chan," she cried brokenly. His heart clenched tightly in his chest as the heart wrenching sound. "Mamo-chan, I can't just _leave_ her here."

The sounds in the warehouse were deafening as he grasped her shoulders, twisting her around to face him. She was pale, the blue of her eyes a painfully stark contrast to her pallid complexion and the inky black lashes that were laced with beaded tears. For a moment, the noise echoing loudly around them disappeared; drowned out by the energy that sizzled between them. He lifted his hands and gently framed her face, the tips of his fingers weaving into the silken tendrils of hair at her temples as he peered down into her eyes.

"Usako, that isn't Makoto," he reassured softly, his tone laced with firm conviction. "I know this is hard, but we _need_ to get out of here."

Only seconds passed, but it felt like so much longer as he watched her come to terms with the aching grief of what had just transpired. Her lower lip quivered, but still, she nodded in agreement.

He wasn't sure how they managed to get through those next few minutes. They needed to duck several times before he could pull her behind the safety of a stack of crates as he miraculously pried the door open in record time and shot them both over the steel threshold and out into the darkened alleyway behind the warehouse.

He was sure that he heard Ami and Kunzite call in a mixture of rage and disbelief just behind them, but he didn't stop to see how close they were as he curled his fingers around Usagi's wrist and roughly pulled her forward.

They leapt over a concrete barrier in the alleyway and ran. He tried to keep them hidden, dashing through the dancing shadows along bricked walls that were cast there by the flickering street lamps that made a popping noise as they turned on one by one under the setting sun.

Usagi stumbled, her breathing labored as delicate fingers clutched onto his arm as she crashed onto her knees with a yelp of pain.

He sucked in a panicked breath of air as he swiftly knelt beside her, grasped her arm, and pulled her back onto her feet. "God," she gasped, choking on the exertion of running. "Mamo-chan, I can barely walk in these stupid things, let alone run."

He heard movement not far behind them, the soles of shoes pounding along the cobblestone alleyway. So, he was quick to clamp his arm around Usagi's waist, hoisting her against him as he, in one fluid motion, leaned forward and pried the shoes from her feet, carelessly tossing them aside.

The action was almost cathartic, and he'd be perfectly happy if she never wore a pair of heels _again_ , but he didn't have time to think about it as he urged her forward and they fled down the darkened pathway, Usagi unsteady, even with bare feet, and emerged onto a busy Kyoto street.

Though it was late, it was still buzzing with activity, and it was easier for him to pull Usagi into the bustling din of swarming pedestrians, swallowing them up in the crowd that they carefully waded through to get onto the other side of the street.

The crowd wouldn't hide them forever though, which was very evident as more and more wary looks, tinged with fear, appeared on the faces of the men and women as they began to recognize Usagi and automatically gave her a wide berth.

He wasn't sure if they were still being followed, but he wasn't taking any chances as he pulled her off the sidewalk, into the shadows in between two buildings, and through winding mazes of deserted back alleyways until finally, they stopped in an empty, eerily quiet park.

After the resonating thrum of gunshots, screams, and the echoing sounds of pounding footsteps in hot pursuit, the quiet was disconcerting. There was only the sound of the wind whistling through the fluttering petals of the cherry blossom trees, and their ragged labored breathing as he turned towards Usagi.

She was a mess; hair loose, swirling around her in tangled clumps, dress torn, barefoot, face streaked with tears. Yet, she was the _most_ beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He couldn't stop himself from reaching for her, crushing her against the hardened expanse of his chest. He shuddered with relief, the tension seeping out of his body as he held her trembling form and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

He didn't know why they hadn't been ripped from this nightmare yet, but he intended to take advantage of every moment that they had together.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and he swore that he could almost feel her despondency as she whimpered, clinging onto him, drowning in the remnants that were the aftereffects of this nightmare.

Her whimpers turned into sobs as she crumpled unsteadily, and he needed to hold her up. "Oh, God. Mamo-chan. I killed Mako-chan," she choked, and his hold on her tightened. "I _killed_ so many _people_. I can't do this anymore. _I can't."_

He swallowed around the lump of anger that formed in his throat, rage on behalf of what had been done to her as he pulled back slightly, placed an index finger beneath her chin and forcibly tilted her face upwards.

The haunted look in her tear-filled eyes enraged him. "Usako," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "This isn't real. _None of this is real._ Makoto is alive and strapped to a gurney in a lab like the rest of this. You didn't do any of those things you remember."

He'd hoped that the vehemence in his voice was enough to convince her of the truth, but by the way that her lips quivered as the tears fell, sluicing listlessly down her smooth, pallid cheeks, he'd been unsuccessful.

She clenched her eyes shut, her face contorting into a look of agony, with a disbelieving shake of her head. "I know, it's just-" she stopped for a moment, visibly swallowing before continuing. "I'm angry, because, every time I wake up in that stupid lab, I promise myself that this time when they put me under, I'll be strong enough to fight through it. Remember _with_ you. So that you don't have to do this alone, Mamo-chan."

He inhaled sharply when her words registered. _Every time she woke up in the lab?_ "Usako," her name spilled from his lips with panicked ferocity. Because, with the exception of that one time, he'd never woken up in the lab again. "You're waking up in the lab? You remember the nightmares?"

Her brows drew together into a frown, her eyes searching his, even as the tears continued to slide down her face silently. "Yes," she breathed in a muted whisper of anguish. "I've begged them until my throat aches, Mamo-chan. They never listen."

His heart skipped a beat; his breath stuck in his throat as his mind began to race with what this could possibly mean for them. _Usagi had access to the enemy_. There were so many things he wanted to tell her. So many ways that they could potentially work together to _beat_ this thing.

Unfortunately, everything around him stopped. The sound sucked out of the world to be replaced with the low buzz that meant that this nightmare was ending.

He wanted to tell her so many things. Tell her to look for clues. Search for ways to _end_ this. But, they were out of time, and he was not going to let her get ripped away on this last, broken note of despair.

With a guttural growl of desperation, he lowered his head and crushed his lips onto hers, her tears salty on his tongue as she reciprocated on a broken whimper of distress. It was a short, chaste kiss, but it was filled with passion, love, and his unspoken promise to get them out of here.

When he pulled away, he cupped her face in his hands, his eyes fixed with determination onto hers. "Usako, it doesn't matter what happens next. You're the strongest warrior I have ever known, and no matter what they make you do, I will always be here fighting to remind you of that."

Her eyes widened, lips parted on a sharp inhale of shocked breath, and he was certain that his words had made an impact by the confidence that flashed sharply in the depths of her eyes. He didn't get a chance to find out for sure, though, because in the next instant everything went black and he was pulled back into the void of unconsciousness.


	11. Chapter 6: Hipster

A/N: Hello, all! Ninjette Twitch here with the very next installment of _What Dreams May Come_! We decided after the very long and angsty Ruthless in Heels, we would give you something a little more calm and relaxed. After all, Mamoru needs a little break after all the hell he just went through, don't you think?

This one is only one chapter; short and sweet.

Let us know what you think!

 **Hipster**

This was the quickest transition yet, and the image of Usagi's tear-stained face, peering up at him from behind red-rimmed, blue-hued eyes, filled with broken desperation, was still very much imprinted on his mind.

As the dark void of the last nightmare melted away, he knew, without a doubt, that he was in another one. He took a moment, eyes still clenched shut, to wade through the inevitable, hopeless self-pity that he needed to get through to move on.

This whole thing was some kind of twisted, cosmic joke. Except it was a joke that didn't prompt even an inkling of laughter as he contemplated doing this yet again. Starting all over in _another_ dream. _Another_ need to find Usagi. Wading through something impossibly complicated while trying to figure out yet _another_ way to have her fall in love with him all over again. To hear her say those three little words.

With another long-suffering sigh of resignation, he finally allowed his eyelids to flutter open, where he found himself, surprisingly, once again in his own bed, staring up at the familiar cracks in the plaster of his apartment ceiling. He knew better than to get excited about it, and he pressed his lips into a thin, grim line of resolute determination.

The last dream had been rough. Admittedly, they'd all been pretty difficult, but he was still reeling from seeing Usako as a ruthless gangster. That hadn't been easy, and, damn, he was tired; so _very_ tired of having to figure out the next thing, over and over again. _Tired_ of seeing her in all of these roles that were so keenly _not_ his Usako. Their friends manipulated in heart-wrenchingly atrocious ways.

It hadn't all been bad, of course. He'd learned more than he was willing to admit. About Usako, and himself. Plus, deep down, he did enjoy seeing her in the vast array of outfits that suited whatever role she was supposed to play. Though he didn't particularly want to see her wearing another pair of heels ever again.

He grimaced, annoyed by his thoughts, and he shook his head in an attempt to clear the memories before cautiously turning his head to the side, praying with everything in him that he was, indeed, in bed alone. He exhaled with relief when all that was beside him were crumpled sheets. Thank _God_! He did _not_ want to have another Beryl surprise, like the first time.

He pulled himself up into a sitting position, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and perched his elbows onto his knees. With a groan of irritation, he raked his hands over his face before running them through his hair in frustrated exhaustion. At this rate, he was going to be bald by the time they figured out anything of value. Though, he was starting to think that he would be trapped in an endless loop of horror forever.

He was internally contemplating his next plan of action when he finally noted the appearance of his room. His brows drew together into a confused frown, his back straightening, startled as his gaze slid over the unfamiliar surroundings.

This was _definitely_ his apartment. But it was _not_ his bedroom. His regular bedroom was simplistic, relatively organized, except for Usagi's typical mess, of course. _This_ room was completely different. His bed was covered in an unnecessary amount of pillows. Above him, attached to the ceiling, were a string of white Christmas lights. Pressed against a smoky, faux chalk-painted wall, was a small, scuffed desk and mismatched, god awful chair. An open laptop hummed, perched on its scuffed surface. Further beyond that, propped in the corner, sat a guitar on a metal tripod guitar stand. What the hell? A _guitar?_ He'd never touched, _much less played_ , a guitar in his life!

On the wall beside his balcony door, stood a tall vintage-looking shelf full of books with well-weathered spines, and CDs, all of which, upon further exploration, were Indie bands he'd never heard of. In the opposite corner sat a lumpy blue bean bag and he shook his head as he noted that it had been used frequently. The Mamoru of this world _clearly_ did _not_ share his tastes.

Mamoru's eyes widened, suddenly, and he made a beeline for his closet. He _hoped_ that he would open the closet to his regular, neatly pressed array of button-down shirts. Hell, he'd even settle for the green jacket that Usagi despised. He was promptly disappointed, though, by the mess of fabric that greeted him behind his closet doors. He sighed with resignation as he rummaged through the contents. Shaking his head, he picked out an outfit, a grimace on his face, as he reluctantly put it on.

He turned slowly, eyeing his reflection in the mirror. _Yup._ His suspicions were confirmed. In this dream, he was a hipster. His eye twitched as he looked himself over again, shaking his head at the uncomfortable, overly tight black pants —more so than Wonderland, even— and a white t-shirt with a red plaid button-up open over it.

His expression in the mirror reflected horrified disbelief. _Really?!_ He sighed with exasperation. Really, nothing should surprise him anymore after what he'd seen. But here he was anyway, feeling exhausted and annoyed by the roles he was constantly forced to play.

He steeled his resolve, firmly deciding that this was no time to dwell on self-pitying thoughts, as his pull to seek out Usagi was growing stronger and more urgent by the minute. Before he could leave, his eyes fell onto a bundled piece of fabric perched on the edge of his desk. He couldn't stop the semi-hysterical bubble that threatened to spill from his lips in a fit of disbelieving laughter when he recognized what it was.

Without a second thought, a shake of his head, and quirk of his lips, he swiped the tan-colored beanie off of the desk and shoved it onto his head. Might as well complete the ridiculous outfit. What was the point of fighting it, anyway?

With a grunt of determination, he left his bedroom and made his way towards the door. He needed to find Usagi. At least so far, things seemed to be somewhat normal. Maybe...just _maybe..._ this nightmare wouldn't be so difficult to escape. But he knew that was just wishful thinking. Despite his relatively harmless hipster persona, he knew from experience that Usagi could have been molded into anything. Maybe she was a top-secret spy, and it would take him forever to track her down? Or a stoner in a hookah bar? The thought made his stomach churn angrily, and he decided against trying to imagine what this nightmare had in store for all of them.

He tried his best to ignore his ridiculous living room decor as he passed through, but it was so glaringly gaudy that it was kind of hard to miss. It was complete with old, mismatched vintage furniture, coarsely embroidered throw blankets, a plethora of plants, and a variety of pictures and paintings on the walls. Most of them sported random images that made absolutely no logical sense. _Was that one of a cat in glasses and a suit?!_

He stopped in the genkan, his eyes widening, appalled, at what was apparently his shoes. He hesitated a moment, rolled his eyes, then shoved his feet into what was black and red skate shoes, He spotted a messenger bag on the floor, scooped it up and looked inside. Apparently, he owned two laptops.

With an exhale of frustrated breath, he closed his eyes, took a moment to summon some much-needed patience, and slung the messenger bag around his neck before heading over the threshold, locking his apartment door behind him. Although he wasn't sure _why_ he needed to lock it. Who the hell would want to steal this mashed up mess of vintage garbage?

He took a deep breath as he made his way down the hall, furiously mashing the button to summon the elevator. In reality, he didn't necessarily _hate_ hipsters. Under normal circumstances, this whole entire situation might have made him laugh with amusement. Honestly, he really couldn't care less whether someone was a 'hipster' or not. But, _he_ was most definitely _not_ that type of person, and this lifestyle was just not for him. He just wanted _his_ life back. _Their_ life back!

He made his way out onto the sidewalk outside his apartment complex and carefully scanned his surroundings. So far, so good. Everything looked normal. But how long would it stay that way?

He hesitated for a moment, feeling uncertain all of a sudden on his next course of action. While this was definitely an improvement to the hell-storm he'd woken up in last time, it definitely left him at a disadvantage. He had no idea where to start.

So, he just started walking, not entirely sure where he was headed. He was used to blending in. In fact, before this whole nightmare debacle started, he'd been pretty damn good at blending in. Which was why he felt slightly uncomfortable as people passed, blatantly staring at him; some opting to roll their eyes at his "choice of clothing," some — mostly kids riding by on skateboards— smiling widely, nodding in approval, gesturing universal rock or peace symbols. Both reactions were enough to elicit a heat that crept up his neck and reddened the tips of his ears in embarrassment. He made a concerted effort to keep his head down after that. Dutifully ignoring everyone that he passed.

When he finally lifted his gaze, he wasn't surprised to find himself at the Crown Arcade. He _was_ surprised to find that it wasn't the arcade anymore. Instead, it was called the Crown Café, and the curb appeal that the Crown had always boasted now looked like a little hole in the wall coffee shop. He frowned, exhaled slowly, then pushed his way through the door. The jingling bell that usually accompanied his entrance into the arcade was curiously absent.

He squinted into the dimly-lit room that was now completely void of pinging games and the bustling din of overly excited teenagers competing to beat their next highest score. Instead, there was an instrumental track featuring a low base of strange drums playing over the sound system. Gone were the cream-colored, neutrally painted walls, and in its place was exposed brick and external copper piping that hung from the ceilings.

There were an array of select, mismatched chairs and tables, strategically placed throughout the room. USB hookups and electrical outlets were installed in several locations. Bookshelves with faded paperbacks, board games and plants lined the walls.

It was a laid back atmosphere, local artists paintings on display in a haphazard manner on most of the walls. The counter, where he'd sat sipping a cheaply made cup of black coffee on several occasions, was transformed into a gleaming steel bar of siphons, French presses, and several varieties of coffee beans on display.

It was like the arcade had been explicitly designed to match his wardrobe, and he shook his head and swiveled around to leave when he spotted her.

His breath caught in his throat and he froze, rooted in place at the sight of her. At one of the tall tables sat Usagi, tapping away on an open laptop, a steaming cup of coffee and sugar-powdered pastry sitting off to the side. It didn't matter how many different ways he'd seen her; a white rabbit, his broken-hearted wife, a dark ruler, a gangster. She consumed him; filled him with hope and melted his heart. _Every. Single. Time._

This time was no exception, and he swallowed around the lump of emotion in his throat as his gaze greedily swept over her. Her hair, not as long as it usually was, was unbound. Glistening golden waves rippled over her shoulders, dyed pink at the tips. Atop her head was a large brimmed black hat, and black, thick-rimmed glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Usagi had never needed glasses, but he had to admit, they looked adorable on her.

She was dressed in a cropped, white long-sleeved shirt with black polka dots and a high waisted black skirt. With every movement of her arm, the shirt lifted, the frayed bottom seam exposing a small piece of smooth, milky white skin between her skirt and her shirt. While the 'hipster' look definitely didn't suit him, it did wonders for Usagi, and he swallowed as his eyes swept down the length of her. Her skirt bunched mid-thigh, showing off endlessly long, crossed legs. Little brown boots donning dainty feet that swung back and forth under her, the seat as tall as a barstool, preventing her from touching the ground.

Draped over the back of her chair was her own black messenger bag, covered in moon and star patches. He couldn't help the amused smirk that curled onto his lips at _that_ particular detail. The monsters that had them playing these nightmarish games were nothing if not thorough with their details.

She adjusted her glasses and took another sip of her almost finished coffee.

"Sup, Mamoru!" the low baritone chords of a familiar voice startled him, and Mamoru jumped before twisting around. His eyes widened as his gaze locked onto Motoki. In true hipster, barista fashion, he was wearing khaki pants, a button-up black and orange plaid shirt with an orange t-shirt underneath. Though what really caught his attention was a small handlebar mustache above his lip and a grey newsie hat.

"What the fuck…" he breathed, unable to contain his disbelief as he eyed his friend up and down.

Motoki frowned. "You okay, man?" He asked, tossing a frayed— probably organic and compostable— wash towel over his shoulder. "You want your usual?"

Mamoru could only nod and turn his gaze back to Usagi, unable to tear his eyes away from her, watching her as she worked. "Here ya go, bro," Motoki chimed lightly, and Mamoru turned back to see him set down a cup of...he frowned.

"The hell is this?" he practically growled, a grimace on his face and confusion laced into his voice. Motoki frowned too, and Mamoru instantly realized his mistake. Right. Nightmare Mamoru probably liked this type of drink. Of course. But really...what _was_ this?!

"It's a Flat White?" Motoki said, as though Mamoru was supposed to have any idea what that was. "You know, two ristretto espresso shots topped with whole milk, steamed to microfoam. I even drew the rose in the foam just like you like it!"

Mamoru stared at the coffee for a moment before lifting his gaze back up to his friend. Motoki's expression was confused, brows raised expectantly. So with a slight sigh, he picked up the drink and took a sip, resisting the urge to make a face. Instead, he cleared his throat and offered Motoki a smile.

"It's good," he lied, successfully fooling Motok who smiled back. Well, it wasn't a _complete_ lie. It wasn't his "regular," but it wasn't _completely_ undrinkable. Setting his coffee back down, he turned back to Usagi. "Hey, what is she drinking?" he motioned toward her with his head.

Motoki followed his line of sight until he found Usagi. "Oh, Usa? Same as you. Flat White. Only she has me make a moon and star in her foam," he said with a soft smile as he stared at her dreamily. Mamoru frowned as he looked back and forth between Motoki and Usagi.

No. _Really?_ In this dream, _Motoki_ was the one with the crush on _Usagi?_ Mamoru gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes, staring at the ceiling for a moment before turning his gaze back to Usagi. Could he really blame Motoki, though? She made an adorable looking hipster, and he couldn't help the small smile that crept up as she took the last sip of her 'flat white

.'

"'Toki," he started, turning back to the counter. "Let me get another one of those drinks, the way she likes it," he ordered. Motoki's eyes widened, and he looked at Usagi before looking back at Mamoru. He clearly did not want to make a coffee for his friend to bring to the girl that he had a crush on. "Please," Mamoru stressed, not really caring at this point if he hurt his feelings.

As Motoki turned, his shoulders slumped in defeat, and headed to make the coffee, Mamoru turned back to watch her again. Her adorable little nose scrunched up as she mulled over something on her screen. Then her fingers went back to typing like a crazy woman.

What could she _possibly_ be doing on that laptop? His curiosity was starting to get the better of him, and he had almost headed in her direction when Motoki reappeared.

"Here," he said, setting the coffee cups down on the counter with a clunk. Mamoru rolled his eyes again at how unusually childish his friend was being and carefully picked up both drinks. But as he headed toward his blonde beauty, the love of his life, he suddenly became very nervous.

What kind of relationship did they have? Did she know who he was? Would he have to introduce himself to her? Were they enemies like the old days in the real world? Did hipsters even _have_ enemies?

As he neared the table, his heart pounded in his chest; a dull ringing in his ears. His stomach did flips as he heard her huff over something she was reading. What was he going to have to do in this world to have her fall in love with him again?

Her eyes shot up over the laptop as he reached the table and set the cups down carefully. "Hey, Mamoru," she said brightly, though slightly dismissive, before returning to her laptop.

He froze. She'd just spoken to him! She knew who he was! What did this mean for their relationship? What kind of relationship did they even have here? He swallowed thickly as he took a seat across from her.

"Uh...whatcha' doing, Usagi?" he asked, choosing a neutral name instead of his signature nickname for her.

"Just writing," she said with a smile tossed in his direction. His heart fluttered, and he suddenly felt the tension leave his body. They didn't hate each other at least. This was good.

"What are you writing?" He prodded gently. She looked at him, blonde brows knit together, a confused smile curled onto heart-shaped lips.

"What am I writing? Seriously, Mamoru. You don't listen to a word I say," she chuckled flirtily, and his heart soared.

"Here," he said, sliding her the cup of coffee he'd ordered for her. "I got you another coffee," he smiled. Her eyes widened as she reached across the table and scooped up the cup gently in her two hands. She brought it to her nose, inhaling the rich scent of coffee beans. She was more intoxicating than coffee had ever been.

Luckily, they seemed to have some kind of relationship. Which would make it so much easier, _hopefully,_ to pull a confession from her. Though, there was probably some kind of hidden obstacle. Was she married? He didn't see a ring. Possibly dating someone else?

He was contemplating a plan of action, a detailed array of gestures that might elicit feelings of love. He was fully prepared to date her for weeks, for _months;_ no matter how long it took, when she spoke again.

"Thank you, Mamoru," she purred as she took a soft sip of her brew. "Mmmm. Yes. See, this is why I love you, Mamo."

He nodded, her words not fully registering. "Yeah, I...wait, what?" he choked out. "Seriously?" His stomach dropped, his heart hammering inside his chest, as her eyes slowly widened and moved from her steaming coffee to his also equally shocked gaze. They couldn't tear their eyes from each other, and he seriously felt like he was going to pass out. There was no way. _No way._ It couldn't be that easy! Could it?

"M...Mamo-chan?" she stuttered. He inhaled sharply. Oh, God. It was that easy. _It was!_

He was wasting time! He quickly jumped up from his seat, his chair scraping loudly across the floor as he rushed around the table. They needed to talk, to come up with some type of plan of action. There was so much he needed to say to her. But her eyes were glistening with tears, her lower lip quivering and his only thought was about comforting her.

"Usako," he breathed, and his tone was tinged with desperation, devastation and the need to hold her. His hands cradled her face, their eyes locked for only a moment before he pressed his lips onto hers. As usual, kissing her was perfection. And the exhaustion, desolation and the feelings of despair that had whispered for him to give up disappeared and steeled his resolve. He would never give up. Not ever.

Suddenly, he remembered how much time they'd been given in the last dream; enough time to run from Kunzite and Ami to somewhere safe. Maybe they would have more time in this dream as well?

With this sudden realization, he pulled away from her delicious lips, and hurriedly grabbed her hand. "Come on!" He wanted to get her somewhere private; somewhere they could talk; somewhere he could hold her in his arms without Motoki's mournful gaze burning into his back. Leaving all of their things behind on the table, he pulled them both from the cafe and rushed them down the street.

"Mamo-chan," she called out breathlessly. "Where are we going?" He glanced back at her, and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of her; pink-cheeked, wide-eyed, a delicate hand pressing that ridiculously oversized hipster hat to her head. He found it difficult to suppress an elated chuckle. He didn't need to wade through another painful nightmare before he could speak to _his_ Usako again, and, damn, she really was adorable.

The corners of his lips quirked up into a tender smile. "My apartment," he replied as they stopped at a crosswalk. He peered down into her shining blue eyes, and he couldn't help the way his smile widened. But when she smiled back, _his Usako_ , the air rushed from his lungs, and he couldn't breathe.

"You know, Mamo-chan," she began softly, her slender fingers suddenly intertwining with his. "It's much easier to run in these boots than it was in those damned heels," she admitted with a nonchalant shrug, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

He knew that she meant the words lightly, but his smile instantly deflated as did his heart. He knew that she remembered waking up in the lab. But did she remember the past dreams as well? Did she remember all the horrible things they had been put through?

Her smile faded slightly with his, and he could see the answer to his inner thought glistening from her eyes. She remembered everything. The light at the crosswalk signaled for them to cross and before he got a chance to reply, he watched as a determined glint of brightness lit up her face, and she leaned in close as if she had a secret. "Race ya'," she whispered in a breathless laugh, injecting some playfulness into what could have been a horribly painful moment before taking off across the street. He blinked in surprise, breath caught in his throat before he decided to follow suit and chase after her.

He needed this. _She_ needed this. It didn't matter that their time was limited now that she remembered, and they _probably_ shouldn't be wasting any time. Usagi, his beautiful ray of sunshine, knew that after all the darkness they had been through so far, that they needed a moment like this. It felt like a small weight was momentarily lifted from his shoulders and her laugh, as he chased her to his apartment, made his heart soar.

As they rounded the corner to his apartment complex, he watched as she curiously glanced around, her eyes widening as she spotted the random hipsters that roamed the streets before heading into the building. Though he was feeling a bit lighter, he was very aware that he could be ripped away from Usagi at any moment, so he couldn't help but tap his foot impatiently as he waited for the doors of the elevator to open. Urgency built in his chest as he watched the numbers light up as it slowly descended to their floor. He jumped a bit when he felt her fingers intertwine with his again, and he immediately calmed as she smiled up at him reassuringly.

When the doors slid open, he wasted no time pulling her in, as he frantically pushed his floor number. They'd barely closed all the way when he had her in his arms again, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss that he'd been craving from her. She moaned softly as her arms encircled his neck and she propelled herself onto the tips of her toes, matching the movements of his lips on hers with a blinding ferocity that could only come from the impending knowledge that soon they'd be torn apart again.

The ding of the elevator bell sounded their arrival and, without breaking their kiss, he pulled her from the small confines into the hallway. He couldn't get enough of her, his hands exploring the contours of her body, a mixture of hitched breathing, groans and gasps as they made their way toward his apartment. They only pulled apart as he fiddled with his apartment keys in his pocket, fumbling slightly, before finally getting the door unlocked and opened, dragging them both inside. After locking the door behind them, he turned to face her.

She offered him a small, lazy grin as she took her boots off, dropping them to the side. Then she pulled off her big hat and threw it at him. He caught it with ease, and she giggled as she arched a golden brow, the cerulean blue of her eyes looking him up and down.

"Mamo-chan...that outfit is ridiculous," she laughed. He couldn't help feeling his face heat up as he made his way to her, kicking his own shoes off as he did.

"Yeah, well yours is incredibly sexy," he grinned as he brought his hand up to the back of her neck and pulled her into another heated kiss. She moaned as he led her into the living room and pushed her down onto the awful couch, throwing the pillows to the floor. His lips trailed down her jaw, and she leaned her head to the side to give him better access to her neck.

"Mamo," she breathed, catching his attention. He didn't stop. Instead, he answered her with a _'hmm_?' as he latched on to the sensitive spot below her ear that he knew drove her crazy. "How much time do we have before this dream ends?"

It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over him. He immediately stopped his ministrations and pushed himself up just slightly to look down at her. Her eyes were half-lidded, her lips red and slightly swollen from his kisses and it took everything in him not to attack that enticing neck of hers again. But she raised a good question. How much time _did_ they have?

With a sigh, he sat up, pulling her with him. "I don't know, Usako," he replied in a defeated tone. "Every dream seems to get longer and longer." Her eyes were wide, expectant, and he knew that while he wished he could spend the rest of this dream losing himself in her, they needed to figure this thing out, or they'd be stuck looping this minefield of horrors forever.

He exhaled deeply, miserably resigned. "But we need to talk. We need to figure this out. Figure out what's going on." She nodded solemnly, and he raked a hand through his hair in frustration. Shaking his head to clear it, and get to the bottom of this. "You said last time that you remember waking up in the lab every time?"

His heart clenched as the pained look flashed through her eyes, and he tightened his arms around her. "Yeah," she nodded again, visibly swallowing. "We're all on these metal gurneys," her eyes began to water as she stared off, remembering, "and attached to all these hoses and wires." Her eyes widened and cleared, suddenly, as she recalled something. "Even the generals, Mamoru!" He inhaled sharply at the revelation. The Generals being injected into the dreams were real. _They were real._ How was that possible?

He bit the inside of his lip, lost in thought before he absentmindedly responded. "I woke up there once," Mamoru nodded, his vision filled with the scenes of all of his friends hooked up to machines.

Usagi gasped, "Yeah! I remember that! That was the first time I woke up there," she exclaimed animatedly. Her excitement faded, "But every time after that, it's only been me. I'm the only one that wakes up between each dream." Sadness had taken over her voice again, a crestfallen expression on her face, as her gaze fell miserably onto the couch.

Rage and fierce protectiveness flashed through him, and he needed to forcibly swallow back his anger before responding. "Have they said anything? Anything about why they are doing this to us or who they are?" He demanded through gritted teeth, racking his brain over who could possibly have any reason to put them through all of this hell.

She sniffled, lower lip trembling as she bravely met his gaze. "I don't know," she began, clearing her throat and reigning in her emotions. "Sometimes I'm only awake for a few seconds, and most of the time I'm…" she took a deep breath, "still reeling…" his hands shook as they settled on her waist. "But I heard them talk about how incredible the results are from each dream. And how they need to figure out how to "harness this,"" she brought her fingers up as quotes.

Mamoru frowned, eyes narrowed with confusion. "Harness what?" he murmured, and the question was more directed to himself.

Usagi answered anyways, "I'm not sure," she shook her head. "But there is one guy who is super nice to me." Another flash of rage coursed through him, and he pressed his lips together in a grim, anger-filled line. Usagi noted his expression, and she readjusted herself in his lap, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "I mean, the others aren't _necessarily_ mean. But this guy is always much more gentle when he puts me under for another dream."

The thought of _anyone_ handling Usagi, no matter how gentle they were being, only served to make him angrier, but he kept that to himself as his arm tightened like a vice grip around her waist. What results could they possibly be getting from these dreams? What were they looking for?

He sat up straighter with a sudden thought, pulling back slightly, lifting a hand to cup the side of her face as he peered down at her. "Usako, the next time you wake up, see if you can talk to this guy; the nice one." He would give anything to be able to be the one to do this in her place, and he hated that it had to be her. He suppressed the part of him that wanted to shield her with a blinding intensity. This was the only chance that they had, and Usagi was strong. She could do this. "Maybe he'll give you some more information on what is going on." Who knew why this guy was nicer to her than the rest, but maybe they could use it to their advantage.

Usagi perked up. "Yeah! Maybe I could even convince him to let us go! To let everyone go!" He doubted it would be that easy, but, if anyone could gain someone's trust with their brightness, it was his Usako.

Mamoru nodded in agreement, his eyes filled with tenderness, as he smiled encouragingly. "Yes!" he stressed. "Get whatever information you can get about why they are doing this to us."

"And why these dreams are so awful," Usagi added. "I mean, why in the world would they have me do the things I'm doing?! And putting us through what they are putting us through? Why us, Mamoru?!" She demanded, her tone tinged with disbelief, tears of frustration welling up in her eyes again. He pressed her flush against him again, tucking her head beneath his chin as his fingers trailed the length of her spine in slow, soothing motions and he brushed his lips in the silken locks of her hair at the top of her head.

"It's okay, Usako," he murmured softly. "Just remember, no matter what happens, we're all okay. No matter what happens in every dream, we're all really just in the lab." He pulled her away just enough to peer into the depths of her eyes. "We will get through this. Just like we've gotten through everything else. Okay?"

She nodded, and he gave her a reassuring smile as he tenderly framed her face with his hands, wiping away a stray tear that had slid down her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

She smiled back before letting out an exaggerated huff. "Stupid aliens!" She cried out in aggravation. "Messing up our lives _just_ when things started to settle down!"

Mamoru's smile fell. "Aliens? Usako, what do these guys look like?" He asked, his tone tinged with confusion. Every time he'd imagined who could be doing this to them, several images had flooded his mind, and he tried not to dwell on them. Not once had he considered Aliens.

She frowned slightly, lost in thought as she tapped her finger against the ample curve of her bottom lip." Well, they kind of look human, like us. But eerier? And…" but she was cut off as a low buzz sounded around them, signaling the end of yet another dream.

Her eyes frantically scanned the room, as if trying to find the source of the sound, but he knew they had only moments left. Gently grabbing her chin, he forcibly tilted her head upwards to look up at him.

"Usako, we will figure this out a little bit at a time, okay?" He tried to reassure her; to let her know they could do this together. He sighed with relief because the determined look in her eyes was a clear indication that she'd understood as she gave him a forceful nod. "I love you, Usako. I love you so much."

Her responding smile was soft and wistful. "I love you too, Mamo-chan," she replied, her tone filled with vehement fortitude. "I'll see you in the next dream?" She joked with a tilt of her head.

He smiled back, shaking his head in disbelief at just how incredible she was. Even at a time like this, when they were about to be sucked away from each other again, she did what she could to put him at ease. "Always, Usako. Always."

He pressed his lips to hers again, thinking back on how desolate he'd felt at the start of this dream. That was before he'd finally been given a chance to talk to her; before they had a plan. He wouldn't allow himself to feel sorry for himself again, even as the familiar blackness quickly overcame them and once more, she was ripped from his grasp.

oOo


End file.
